


He Woke Me Up Again

by avengingbucks, captaindumbass



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Steve, Awesome Sam Wilson, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blowjobs, Coffee, College, Coming Out, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay Bucky Barnes, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor mentions of Thor and Steve, Musician Bucky, Pegging, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Smut, Spin the Bottle, They're all basically friends, Threesome - M/M/M, Truth or Dare, neeeerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 14:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 95,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16019567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengingbucks/pseuds/avengingbucks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaindumbass/pseuds/captaindumbass
Summary: Steve knows a lot about college. He knows not to slack off until he knows which teachers to slack off with. He knows not to leave his laundry in the machines overnight. He knows that he’s going to gain 10lbs and get sick. He knows not to sleep with his roommates, which shouldn’t be too difficult as his only roommate is Sam and the mice that live in the kitchen cupboards of their freshman accommodation.  He’s read about it and he’s watched enough movies, he’s got this college thing in the bag. That's until a sharp-witted guy with an even sharper jawline comes into his life, there's not enough list-acles or Reddit threads in the world that can prepare him for that.Completed but currently reworking (Chapters 1-7 done)





	1. New Slang

 

Steve knows a lot about college. He knows not to slack off until he knows which teachers to slack off with. He knows not to leave his laundry in the machines overnight. He knows that he’s going to gain 10lbs and get sick. He knows not to sleep with his roommates, which shouldn’t be too difficult as his only roommate is Sam and the mice that live in the kitchen cupboards of their freshman accommodation.  He’s read about it and he’s watched enough movies, he’s got this college thing in the bag.

He sits in front of the accommodation which he’d only seen in pictures and the drive by peaking he and Sam did once they got their letters of acceptance through. The building is a brutalist monstrosity, far from the historical Boston buildings that the brochure had plastered throughout its pages. The grey sky is bleeding into the pebbled concrete of the building. The only color he can see for what seems to be miles is the chipped red of his old car and his own reflection in the tarnished plaque in front of the door which reads, _‘Harmony Hall, 1968’_ . He thought he’d feel a little bit more, staring out into the concrete abyss, but all he can feel is contentment like this is _all right_. 

“You do know I’m squished between our shit in the backseat, right?” Sam’s sarcasm dies a little in between the bags. “You can be all poetic once we get inside, Rogers. I can’t feel my leg.”

Steve rolls his eyes but smiles as he takes the keys out of the ignition and pushes open the door.

The moment they step out of the car it hits Steve that this is where he’ll be for the next three years. This is what he worked so hard towards and now, it’s finally happening. He’s ready for the sleepless nights, the days spent painting until his back and fingers are sore and meeting new people. Steve’s ready for it all.

Sam snaps his fingers, “You’re spacing out, Steve, we’ve gotta move, there are people queuing up behind us.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head but turns to look at Sam who’s giving him an irked look, “I’m taking it all it, Wilson” Steve reassures and clasps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “It just feels right y’know?”

Sam snorts in relief, “You won’t say that once class starts. I’ve heard that Professor McSausage is a bitch” Sam shivers and grimaces.

“McSawyeers, Sam. She can’t be that bad.”

A disbelieving snort escapes Sam as he walks back to the trunk, “Whatever, she sounded harsh in those education videos.”

“You’re just nervous!” Steve exclaims and shakes his head.

“And you’re not?”

“Not yet” Steve says with a smile and goes to open the trunk of his car. It’s stuffed with everything from A to Z and most of it belongs to Sam. Steve has his clothes, a few books, and his art supplies whereas it seems like Sam’s got his entire house with him. Knowing Mrs. Wilson and her penchant to worry about her youngest, Steve’s not entirely sure that she’s not packed herself into those boxes too.

“Did you steal your mom’s pots and pans?” Steve asks as he eyes the box that says ‘Stuff #2’ and grabs a hold of one of the pans. “You’ve got like…” Steve counts them, “Four!”

Sam groans, “I panicked, alright. I was in a rush.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Steve laughs wholeheartedly and feels a warm fondness towards his friend.

“Plus if we ever need to cook a banquet, we’re all set” Sam adds whilst fumbling with the copper bottom pan that had trickily escaped his grip.

Sam’s been there ever since they were just two kids running around their neighborhood and he can’t picture a life without him, but then he also can’t picture their relationship without a rendition of Ebony and Ivory by the elder Wilson.

Sam grabs a hold of the pan in Steve’s hand and grunts but he stops just as he’s about to say something and gapes at the group of girls passing them by.

Steve watches them, throws them a little wave as they chuckle giddily like a group of chicks usually do.

“Hey boys” they cheer as they walk past and both Steve and Sam gazes at them like they’re the goddesses in the clouds above Mount Olympus. Sam practically drools and then pushes the pan back into Steve’s hands and waves at the girls. Steve’s almost entirely unaware of Sam’s movements and fumbles with the stolen pan.

“Not nervous anymore!” he blurts abruptly and gathers everything he can in his arms. Steve tries to warn him that he can’t carry all that but Sam’s slapping his hands away, “Let’s carry this shit inside” Sam says calmly and smiles before he runs after the girls. “Wait up!” he calls after them. Steve can’t help but laugh out loud as one of the girls rushes towards Sam because he’s about to drop several items.

Steve’s left with an amused smile on his face and he gathers a couple of bags himself out of the car before slamming it shut.

“What on earth is that?”

Steve turns around perplexed at the sudden voice behind him.

“A car?” He says to the guy standing behind him with sunglasses perched low on the bridge of his sharp nose. He looks at Steve, or maybe he’s looking at the car, with a condescending look and Steve’s on the defence, ready to back up his entire life choices if he must.

“Is it safe?” The guy asks, chin raised high and his hand gesturing towards the red car.

“I wouldn’t drive her if she wasn’t” Steve says, voice stern. He puts down his bags and crosses his arms over his chest. The guy in front of him looks like he’s in his mid twenties. Maybe a senior or just a random stranger passing by but Steve takes a look at the suit and everything about the guy screams after-party and… maybe he’s a little high on something? Steve narrows his eyes.

The guy must notice the look Steve’s giving him and he’s quick to put on a smile and relax his frame, “I’m Stark. Tony Stark” Tony reaches out at grabs Steve’s hand solid.

Steve’s grip is just as solid as he shakes Tony’s hand, “Steve Rogers.”

“What a piece of junk, Steve!” Tony almost shouts and laughs like he can’t control it. “Can I use it for my senior project?” he rambles and takes off his glasses swiftly.

It takes a moment before Steve registers what’s been asked, “Excuse me?”

Tony leans into Steve’s personal space and looks directly into his eyes with an intense look, “I _need_ her.”

“Tony?” someone yells from across the parking lot and comes running towards them. The guy looks stressed, a little upset and there’s annoyance flashing in his eyes like an adult about to yell at a child for climbing into the washing machine. “I’m so sorry, he’s just…” the guy looks at Tony while shaking his head like he’s got no idea what to do with him, “He’s completely mad.” The guy chuckles nervously but looks at Tony like he’s about to murder him.

“That’s fine” Steve says and then Tony’s grabbing his arm, looking at him desperately.

“She might just be it, Rogers. I’ll pay you whatever” he does that wave with his hand again like he’s about to buy the best racehorse and he’s willing to sell his soul for it, “Give me a price!”

The guy groans, “Tony…”

“No, Banner!” Tony snaps and looks frantically at his friend, “I need this car!”

“You got one already!”

“No! I need this one…” he twitches as he looks at the rusty, red car. “I need it.” Tony breathes in sharply and looks at Steve completely ignoring Banner’s groaning.

Steve looks at his car and considers it. The car really is a piece of shit and has caused him more hassle than she’s worth, literally. The cost of getting it past the MOT is enough to buy a car that doesn’t smell like a dog gave birth in the back seat.

“How much, Rogers?” Tony pushes.

Steve clicks his tongue and looks at Tony.

“A grand.”

Steve narrows his eyes, wondering if this is some kind of prank the seniors pull on the freshmen. “Where’s the cameras?” he chuckles nervously but Tony’s face is nothing but serious and when Steve looks over at Banner he just rolls his eyes and groans like he can’t believe this is happening. “You’re willing to pay a grand for her?” Steve asks and points to the car.

“I am.”

Banner stammers, “Ton-“

Steve runs a hand through his hair. He could do so much with a grand, it would help him a lot. “I-I don’t know what to say-” he reaches out his hand and before he’s got the word ‘deal’ out on his tongue, Tony grabs it.

“Deal!” Tony all but shouts.

“Let me just unpack. And I’ll go over her to see if I got stuff I need to remove.”

“You’ll do great things. You just saved the future, Rogers!”

Steve still can’t believe this, “I’m happy to help” he breathes and blinks. “You’re not… pranking me?”

“Here’s my number” Tony pulls out a business card from his trousers and smiles all teeth and sharp edges, no joke there. “Call me when I can pick her up.”

“Will do” he says and meets Banner’s eyes and if looks could kill, Banner’s would’ve murdered him on the spot.

Banner sighs, softens remarkable and puts a hand on Tony’s shoulders. “We need to go” he says calmly, “Bucky’s coming over and apparently a new car we need to pick up later.”

“I need the money?” Steve tries with a pull of his shoulders. “Sorry?”

“It’s ok” Bruce smiles and relaxes a little. “He’s just crazy” he mouths and rolls his eyes while pointing at Tony.

“I’m no such thing, Banner. Now let’s go, we’ve gotta to pick up the fireworks for tonight.”

“It’s only Bucky-” Banner sighs before Tony interrupts.

“- yes but now baby Barnes is finally at college rather than sleeping on our floor during the holidays and trying to sneak into frat parties -” Tony’s rambling trails off as he and Banner make their exit down the street, the New England fall turning the leaves of the trees that punctuated the walkways.

Steve’s left on his and frowns in contemplation when he looks down at the business card. Did he just sell his rusty, almost broken down car for a grand to a total stranger?

“Welcome to college!” someone yells as they run past him.

And Steve looks up at the building in front of him again and can’t help but think out loud, “Yikes.”

* * *

 

The alarm wails through their shared room, the harsh sounds bouncing off the walls like rubber bullets. Steve has insane first-day nerves and this isn’t helping at all.

“Sam” Steve mumbles as he steps out of their shared bathroom and into the almost completely dark bedroom. You can see there’s a poster halfway put up on the wall, there’s the tiny blinking red light from their microwave and Steve just stands there for a minute, watching as Sam sleeping peacefully through his alarm.

Is this what he signed up for? Steve can’t even imagine having to wake up Sam every day for the next couple of years. No thanks.

“SAM!” he means to hiss but it comes out as a shout and Sam bolts up straight, wide-eyed and looking like he’s been shot.

“What the fuck, Rogers?!” he complains and shoots Steve a look which can only be described as a betrayal but then he hears why. “Shit, sorry” he leans over to his phone and shuts it off.

“Yeah, no I was awake anyway” Steve waves it off and rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Could you change your alarm to something else?” Steve asks, “It sounds like a construction site or a nuke alarm going off.”

“Those are two widely different things, dude.”

Steve looks at him and walks over to his bedside table where he turns on a lamp, “Are they though?”

“Why were you awake anyway?” Sam takes a look at the time and raises his eyebrows with the question. “It’s 8am… Your class doesn’t start until 11am.”

“Your’s start in an hour” he grunts back at Sam but then he shrugs, “It’s nothing.”

Sam swings his legs out of the bed and stretches while saying, “Oh, it’s always something.”

It shouldn’t hurt but Steve feels the pang in his chest anyway and swallows, “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks not bothering disguising the hurt in his voice.

Sam points out the obvious, gestures to Steve’s entire being and smiles sadly before he throws on a t-shirt, “radiating anxiety doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Steve wants to snap at him, the defensiveness is lurking beneath every breath he takes and he knows if he blurts whatever he’s about to say nothing good will come out of it so he goes with; “I’m just nervous…”

“For what?” Sam gets out of bed and walks over to the mini fridge and fetches a yoghurt. “The professor liking you too much?” he closes the door, “The people adoring you?”

“Everything, man!” Steve growls in frustration and slumps back down onto his new bed, he uses the term ‘new’ loosely, as at least three of the springs had seen better days. Everything feels so alien to Steve right now, like when you’re sleeping over at a friend’s for the first time and you lie awake for hours before they wake up. He pulls the cover up to his chest and buries his face into the scent of home.

“Steve-” Sam drags out his name and looks at him from where he’s sitting in the bed across from Steve, just like when Steve stayed over at Sam’s when they were younger. When Sam’s sister got her own room, Steve was allowed to stay over more and it was just like this. Minus Sam trying to comfort Steve. It was more laughing about something ridiculous the other had said and arguing over who had the best music taste, Sam usually won that one, on the account that Steve’s _Spotify Discover Weekly_ hadn’t discovered anything past 1997 in three months.

“I want to be eight again,” he presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and groans loudly.

“Hey!” Sam moves over to Steve’s bed and sits down next to him, “You’ve been talking non-stop about college for the past couple of months. You’ve got it all sorted, like some really good army or football captain. You want this, Rogers and I haven’t got a time machine handy. This is nerves, healthy nerves even!” he reassures and Steve looks at him, “You’re not allowed to bail on me now” Sam bumps his shoulder to Steve’s and gives him a smile that’s not pitying but there for comfort if Steve needs it.

There’s a couple of minutes of silence before Steve’s starting to feel more in control of himself again. “They’ll see my art,” he says quietly, leg jittering.

“And they’ll love it!” Sam clasps a hand on Steve’s knee and gets up from the bed. “I need to get ready” Sam rolls his eyes at the frown Steve sends his way.

Sam gets off the bed and walks towards the bathroom but stops when he hears Steve say, “But you hate my art.”

“To me it’s just splotched paint on white man, I know nothing!” Sam lifts his hands up in defense, “But I can see that you put your soul into it so I guess all the other art nerds will see that.”

“Forever the supportive friend, Wilson” Steve shakes his head but smiles at his friend’s honesty. Steve sucks in a breath and shakes his head, “I’m just feeling it all-”

“You always feel shit, dude!” Sam points out, “But I’m not letting you pack your bags so you can keep hiding in that damp garage back at home.”

“Alright.”


	2. This Will Be Our Year

The first week goes past smoothly with its inane getting-to-know-each-other games, that Steve secretly loves despite protesting wildly to Sam. He’s got ‘two truths and a lie’ down to a fine art.

His professors all make an appearance to introduce themselves and Steve wonders how long their enthusiastic appearances will last for. He knows that college can be filled within the blink of an eye and you’ll miss the appearances by the actual professors and instead their courses are given by grumpy pHD students who just want to get on with their research and take advantage of the cheap food in the cafeteria.

It’s the middle of the week and Steve finds himself being gathered up onto a campus tour lead by a spritely Italian student who speaks and moves like he’s auditioning for the Royal Shakespeare Company. He can’t say anything except that he appreciates the enthusiasm and wonders how long it could possibly last for.

What Steve likes the most about the art department is the atelier with its vast open space and sprawling windows with a view out to a garden, peppered with flowers and shrubbery and beyond that, the city skyline. He can’t wait to sit down in there one day soon and paint, providing that nobody else is around to watch him work.

He gets along with his classes and the other students just fine. He’s talked to a few of them about artists they like, that conversation was monopolized by a girl barking her contempt for the romantic era. He quickly decided he didn’t care for her much. He ends up making a list of people he needs to look up, apparently, his art history wasn’t that great.

Just as he’s leaving the studio and the other students bustle around him, a feeling similar to the one he got whenever he was lying next to Sam on the roof back home looking up at the night sky. It reminds him that he is a part of something bigger than himself. It’s all so very new and exciting to him, it’s like a portal to this whole new world he’s just been waiting for since he was a kid buying his first paintbrush and canvas.

Out in the halls, he sees people from other courses. It’s like that Mean Girls movie that Sam loves but will never admit to. Steve’s lost track on how many times he’s had to sit through endless hours of conversations where Sam’s been quoting the damn movie in almost every sentence. Obviously, the cliques seem less dramatic in real life, but you can still distinguish the creative types from the STEM majors and the business students from the sports guys. He catches a glimpse of his own reflection in a dusty trophy case, his heaving muscles almost bursting out from his paint-splattered t-shirt, maybe he was too quick to judge.

“Steve!” someone yells and Steve turns around so quickly he nearly crashes into someone walking behind him.

“Sorry” he mutters embarrassed before looking up seeing Tony standing there. Steve’s a bit taken aback at how normal he looks this time dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. This time it looks like he’s got enough sleep and a taken a shower.

“Are you wandering the halls on your own?” Tony comes over to Steve and he flings his arm around Steve’s shoulders before they start wandering down the hall towards the cafeteria. “Where're your friends?” he looks at the watch before taking a big bite out of a red apple, completely ignoring Steve trying to get away from his friendly hook. “Don’t tell me a guy like you hasn't got any friends!”

Steve wonders what the hell is going on, he wonders if Stark did this to every Freshman he’d ever bought a dilapidated car from and by the very little information Steve had about Tony, Steve couldn’t be his first. “I was just on my way to lunch to see my-” he tries but Tony makes a noise, a mixture of a whine and a grunt, clearly wanting to take over the conversation.

“Your car is doing good. Gave her a new engine last week, she’ll be flying before the semester’s -” Tony blurts out and stops in his tracks. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I’m on my way to see-”

“Jarvis, I’m on my way to lunch. I have thirty minutes off. Don’t let anyone call me” Tony hisses to no one in particular and it seems that Steve’s the only one around to witness this so he’s stuck just looking confused as all hell. Tony’s standing there, a finger pressed to his ear like he’s a secret agent and everyone around them is walking by like it’s the halls of MI5.

Suddenly, Steve feels a jab at his shoulder, probably another student taking pity on him or an enemy agent assassinating any witnesses with a poison-tipped dart. Instead, he’s met by a guy smiling amused at Steve and then at Tony. For a second Steve feels hot, very hot.

“He’s talking to his robot,” he says like it’s supposed to make sense to Steve, all it does is add fuel to the theory that Tony Stark is a madman.

“What?” Steve croaks and tears his eyes off the guy with the sharp squared jaw and grey eyes before he frowns in confusion.

Tony nods at the guy before saying, “Jarvis. He’s my AI assistant”, offering no real explanation at all.

“Also known as, your best and only friend” the other student retorts.

Steve looks at them both, narrow-eyed and still confused.

“Are you going to leave us alone, Barnes?” Tony groans, “or am I going to have to die a slow and painful death looking at you in this corridor?” Tony folds his arms defensively before cracking a smile. Steve thinks death wouldn’t be that bad if he died right now.

“Ouch, Tony!” Barnes crosses his palms over his heart in fake heartbreak. His perfectly white teeth showing in the joking process.

Steve looks at the handsome stranger from tip to toe and quickly decides he’s just like all the douchebags he’d met in Manhattan during his catering gigs. He looks like he’s about to leer after one of his female colleagues and Steve is going to be the only one stupid enough to give that rich asshole a piece of his mind. Sharp in a white shirt, grey slacks and a Rolex on his wrist more to show off instead of actually tell him the time. The chorus of Money Money Money by ABBA rattles around his head and he’s worried that if he opens his mouth the lyrics will pour out.

Tony must notice how Steve’s staring and without Steve noticing he winks at Barnes before he grabs a hold of Steve’s shoulder again, “He may look like an asshole but he’s not that ba-”

“Hey!” Barnes chirps behind them.

“You can’t turn up to college dressing like that, everyone is gonna think you’re a spoiled brat. Which you are but-”

“But these are my clothes?” He interrupts, glaring over Tony.

“What do you think of James’ clothes, Steve? Does the _Mad-Men-50-years-too-late-look_ do it for you?” Tony cocks his head, a laugh playing in the back of his throat.

He can feel the heat coursing through his body, “I don’t feel like anything I’m going to say is the right answer.”

Steve self consciously checks his reflection in the glass of one of the cabinets containing a plastic double helix and a plaque from Watson & Crick. Steve’s the regular guy with his denim jeans and plain t-shirts along with flannels with the evidential paint stain. Sam suggested he bought tighter jeans to show off his ‘ass-ets’ but Steve felt too uncomfortable in anything that meant he couldn’t run away from Sam when he was being particularly annoying.

“Sorry,” Barnes says and reaches out his hand for Steve to shake, “My name is James Barnes.”

Tony clears his throat and says something along the lines of ‘Bucky’ but Steve’s not sure. Tony goes back to say something to Jarvis and the moment Barnes grabs a hold of Steve’s hand he gets this mixture of nervousness and a pull, almost magnetic and he feels sick when he lets go of Bucky’s hand.

“You look a bit pale there, buddy,” Tony says as he turns back to them. “I know he’s disgusting, God. I would be sick too if I had to shake that hand.”

“Tony!” Barnes groans but Steve catches the worry in his eyes. “Did I-”

“I’m good, I just need to-I’m on my way to Sam. I’m starting to get hungry” he announces strangely pragmatically, hopefully not too strangely as to alert suspicion to his very clear and sudden discomfort. He hopes the lie should will away the new and intruding feeling in his body.

Tony narrows his eyes before cocking an eyebrow, “Sam as in Samantha?” he types something away on his phone and Steve hears the buzz on Bucky’s phone.

“Noooo,” he drags the word out, “Sam as in Samuel, although I used to tell people it was Samothy to piss him off, He’s my best friend” he eyes the phone in Bucky’s hand, worried that they’re talking about him. He wouldn’t blame them if they were, he’s an idiot a grade A idiot, top of the class in idiot college and the envy of all his idiot classmates. “He’s a psychology student,” Steve says and swallows down the discomfort, “He’s waiting for me so I got to go.”

“We’re coming with you. We’re going that way anyway!” Tony says and pulls Steve along again by the shoulders.

Steve can feel Tony starting to get on his nerves. There’s something about Tony that really grinds against every nerve in Steve's body but that's expected, he's always clashed with the smart and sarcastic types. He can't help but feel that's he's not going to be able to shake Tony, like an ugly shirt that you grow fonder of every time you look at its garish print. Like all the ugly-cool t-shirts Sam owns and adamantly insists that goldfish print is cool and ironic now.

“I’m doing a masters in mechanical engineering and Bucky over here is a musician! He just arrived, just like you. A fresh sweet child about to get crushed by reality-”

Steve, feeling bold, interrupts, “You’re a music student?” he asks Bucky, slightly surprised that Madison Av. over here was doing anything other than Business.

“I thought you studied business” Steve admits glancing over Bucky's clothes and Bucky laughs, “What d’ya play?”

“He’s sick on the triangle” Tony winks and suddenly he disappears around a corner like he was never there in the first place, leaving Bucky with Steve.

There a few seconds of awkward silence filled by the sound of the bustling life of the cafeteria. Bucky looks nervous the way he looks around with his bottom lip worrying between his teeth and his eyes scanning after Tony.

“He’s such a shit” Bucky shakes his head clasps a hand on his neck. “I play guitar, by the way, sing a little too.”

“Ah” Steve nods and spots Sam in the crowd. “I got to go,” he says and Bucky looks a bit forlorn by the words but Steve would rather get as far away as possible from this… whatever it is so he-

“Do you want to come to this party on Friday? It’s not at my place it’s a friend's, but I trust you. I think. You seem like the responsible drunk, y’know the kinda guy who asks where the recycling box is?”

Steve nods instinctively which catches Steve himself off guard because he never says yes to a party willingly, plus the recycling comment was so painfully correct he now suddenly trusts this handsome stranger. Bucky grabs his hand and pulls out a pen before writing what must be his number down on his hand. “You’re an artist, not afraid of getting a little ink on you, are you?” Bucky smiles.

“No,” Steve finds himself smiling too and before he knows it he’s agreed to his first college party.

The tables in the cafeteria are long and made out of a heavy-duty metal and are accompanied by lengths of multicolored chairs. It’s a nice touch, Steve thinks. When he finally sits down opposite from Sam, Sam’s finished his lunch.

“Where the hell were you?” he asks and sips his coffee. “I’ve been waiting to hear all about cute art girls.” He takes another sip and mumbles into his off white coffee mug, “Oh and I suppose all the other stuff too, ‘ _how’s the course of your dreams yada yada yada_ ’”.

“You won’t believe how hard it was to get here!” Steve says, exasperated. His mind wanders back to what just happened with Tony and Barnes. Another friend? Bucky? Who the hell calls themselves Bucky? Steve shakes his head and Sam just watches him. “Ever heard of AI assistants?” he asks as he pulls out his sandwich from his bag and groans obscenely as he bites into it.

“No?” Sam snorts.

They eat in silence for a bit, Sam checking his phone, signing up for tutorials and talks and Steve’s lost in his own head. There’s a knot forming in his gut and he doesn’t like it, not one bit. He knows he could just tell Sam, but Steve thinks, no, he knows that he’s just overthinking it. It’s just nerves. Yeah, nerves.

“I might go into the atelier tomorrow,” he speaks up, “It looks amazing. You should come by when you’re off” he shows a photo on his phone and remembers the number on his hand. The knot tightening. He sniffles and mumbles out, “Oh, and we’re going to a party this Friday.”

“Fucking finally. Everyone in my class just wants to read this weekend. I’m already bored. Who’s party is it?”

Steve holds out his hand and shows the number to Sam.

“A girl?” Sam’s brows shoot up in question, impressed, “Damn, you getting some already, Rogers.”

Steve shakes his head no, mouth still full of food, “Tony, the guy who bought my car, has a friend named Bucky and his friend is hosting it. I think?”

“Anyway,” Sam says as he down his coffee, “We’re going.”

Steve gets that feeling again, its making him hot and cold. The introvert in him telling him to wait up, the extrovert telling him to live a little and let go. He so desperately wants to be something in between, a calmer of the two. Maybe he’d talk to Sam about introducing a new ‘vert’ into the American Psychological Association.

“Steeeeveee”, Sam sighs, “It’s just a party, it won’t be like high school, you said you wanted to try new things remember?”

That settles it. College is for feeling new feelings and experiencing new things. The weirder the better according to all those Reddit threads that Sam’s been sending him for months.

“Alright, alright” he puts his hands up and chuckles, “We’re going.”

* * *

 

Surprisingly there’s only one other student inside the atelier when Steve walks in the next morning holding a coffee in one hand and a bag full of art supplies in the other. He stands there for a second, looking at the redheaded girl clearly in her own bubble as she paints peacefully and jumps slightly when Steve walks past her.

“Hi,” she says and Steve waves hello. “You a freshman?”

“I am,” Steve says and sips his coffee. “You?”

The girl nods and extends her hand, “I’m Natasha.”

“Steve.”

She nods and goes back to painting. Steve appreciates the short but kind introduction and moves to the space down in the corner of the room. He loves the smell of dried paint, the old fabric laid out on the floor covered in all sorts of painting and the glass jars containing brushes of all types and sizes. He has his own but he sees a few definitely wants to try out.

He hasn’t painted in weeks and the excitement he gets when he pulls out the canvas and puts it onto the easel is still the same every time he does it.

Natasha is stretching a bit. She’s probably painted for hours before Steve came in and now she’s needing to relieve her neck. He finds her cute with her long red hair and tiny flecks of paint on her face, she’s in a yellow overall with a leather jacket over that, it’s an odd but nice touch. Steve’s still missing Peggy, his ex-girlfriend that he dated for what felt like an eternity to his hormone-addled brain before she and her family decided on moving back to England. He thinks of her in his big white shirts that he got from his grandad and the way she would laugh with his Mom. He misses her and even though he loves girls he’s not sure he’s really there yet, to commit to anything. He’s happy to fool around though, he guesses that’s exactly what college is for. It’s strange, Natasha looks nothing like her but he still catches himself comparing a complete stranger to his ex and blushes. He’s gotta get over himself.

She catches him looking and he looks away, his eyes fixed back onto his canvas where he’s still got nothing.

“Hey” she comes over and points towards the canvas. “Can I look?”

“There’s nothing on it” he confesses and she narrows her eyes like she can’t quite believe him. “I promise you, there’s nothing there!” he chuckles.

She rounds the corner and tilts her head, “You specializing in empty spaces or you just out of ideas?”

“I’m contemplating.”

“Life?”

“Everything?” He pauses, “Maybe not everything but close enough, I guess.” He shrugs and tucks a paintbrush over his ear, “College is, uh a lot and mostly I find myself spacing out thinking about everything I miss or everything that was grateful, am grateful for.”

“Deep, Steve” she mutters. Suddenly, Steve’s worried that he’s weirded her out. Her green eyes go wide but her face softens, clearly appreciating the honesty. She sits down next to him, “What do you like to paint?”

“People? I don’t know.” Steve shrugs and she rolls her eyes at his non-committal statement.

“Photos?” She asks.

He nods and pulls out his phone, a bit excited that someone is interested enough to ask for photos. He imagines this is what parents of ugly babies feel like. He shows her a photo of a portrait he did of Sam a couple of months ago. “This is of my best friend, Sam.”

She grabs his phone and holds it, zooms in and out of the photo examining it to the point where Steve actually feels a bit nervous.

“This is really good!” she says and hands him the phone back. “I think I saw you yesterday morning in class but I was hungover and I couldn’t stand the overly enthusiastic guide that we had.”

“I really liked him!” Steve argues and thinks back to the Italian student with his crazy hand movements and bad jokes, “Maybe he was a bit too enthusiastic.”

“He was” she grimaces and chuckles. “Anyway, I’ll see you around. I got to go now” Natasha says and gets up from the stool next to Steve.

“It was nice meeting you, Natasha.”

As she leaves, Steve picks up the tube with the silver, the one with the white, and the one with black and squeezes them onto the palette and starts painting. He adds a bit of blue in there too and finds himself stopping and looking at the face starting to form on the canvas. With narrowed eyes, he examines it and sits back onto his stool.

Whenever he paints he feels free and relaxed, but today he finds himself being more… restless and there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, like an annoying ulcer or a scab just waiting to be scratched. He knows himself pretty well but it feels like his emotions are taunting him, whispering things to him that makes no sense and Steve had to put down the brush after only fifteen minutes into his session.

“What the fuck” he mutters and presses the palms to his eyes before grabbing his now cold coffee and downing the rest of it.

He stands up and walks over to the massive window he feels so small and insignificant to what’s happening. He thinks about Tony with his AI assistant and flying cars, even though he doesn’t entirely believe a word he says., Sam with his psychology which seems way more important than what Steve’s doing, Peggy who’s back in London being a badass business woman doing important things. He’s got his paint brushes, Sam keeps saying he’ll do great things with those brushes but Steve’s starting to doubt that. Is he the only one feeling this way? He can’t be, he thinks and picks up the paintbrush again.

“Think of something nice, Rogers,” he says to no one but himself and clears his mind. “Think of…” he looks at the painting in front of him and feels his heart clench with something unfamiliar and he decides to pack up quickly and head back to the dorm, the enigmatic feeling still pounding in his chest.


	3. Tilted

“Rogers!” Sam bellows from the other room and Steve groans audibly before he rolls over onto his side clearly not in the mood. He thinks about just getting under the covers and pretending to be asleep, jeans and boots and all. He can feel the tightness of his dress shirt pull over his bicep and he shifts a little trying to ease it, regretting putting it on in the first place.

Parties have never been a fun time for Steve, especially as he was never invited to them as a kid. Nobody wanted to look at scrawny Steve Rogers at their 9th-grade pool party but Sam never let them get away with it and dragged Steve along anyway, which was definitely 100% worse. He recalls standing there, all the girls glaring at him in disgust as he stood there in his swim trunks that were hanging on his boney hips and as the other boys came running next to him to jump into the pool, he looked like hadn’t seen the sun his entire life. His mom just wanted him to wear sunscreen. Loads of it.

He’s not usually this nervous in social situations usually but call it a party and it makes him more nervous than a chihuahua during 4th of July fireworks but for some reason, this is the worst he’s felt in a long time.

“Rogers! Rogers! Rogers!” Sam bounces into the room, Mr. Brightside teeming tinnily from his phone speakers that clearly don’t do the song any justice. He has the phone in one hand and two open bottles clasped carefully in the other.

“Stop being such a mope, man! You said yes to the party, not me.” Sam sighs as he places the phone down onto Steve’s bedside table and presses one of the cold beers on Steve’s cheek with a gap-toothed grin plastered to his face. It’s like being slapped by a very wet and very cold penguin.

“Ugh!” Steve sits up straight in the bed and wipes his damp cheek against the blue cotton of his shirt and shoots Sam a glare of annoyance.

Sam laughs and thrusts the beer into Steve’s hand, he jokingly demonstrates how to drink it, “Just drink this and tell me that your pretty ass doesn’t want to go after that.”

Steve can’t do anything but shake his head and place the bottle to his lips. He tastes the hops and a hint of lavender as the beer settles into his taste buds.

Sam's always gone for the weird fancy beer but Steve's always preferred the standard stuff because he could never really afford anything else. Being a paperboy helped him pay for the things he needed like asthma medication and comics, later on, the cashier and catering jobs helped pay for gasoline and art supplies, alcohol was at the bottom of the list.  Sam’s older brother had a spare ID card for when they were younger and it was uncanny how they both looked exactly alike without being twins, down to the curve of their eyebrows and the gap in their teeth. So, luckily for Steve, Sam would regularly come over with an entire paycheck worth of IPAs and stouts.

Sam’s got taste but absolutely no self-control.

By the end of the bottle Steve felt the nervous knot in his stomach ease up like conditioned rope sliding undone. Sam laughs excitedly about the night ahead. He’s chatting about the people in his social psych class, Steve tries to pay attention and tries to focus on Sam’s deconstruction of Ego Depletion, it feels so alien unless Sam explains it further, tonight he doesn’t.

By the second beer he’s fumbling with Sam’s phone and playing song after song that they used to request at the dances in the town hall that they went to on Saturday afternoons when they were both scrawny and uncoordinated as they’d ever be. Steve isn't sure when he learned the lyrics to _All-Star_ , he’s pretty sure he never sat down to explicitly learn them. He’s pretty sure that it’s one of those songs that you’re just born knowing all the lyrics to.

By the third beer, Sam’s gushing over a girl he’s met, who’s name Steve keeps forgetting no matter how many times Sam’s mentions her. For some reason, her face and name won't stick, like his mind is a tightly packed Filofax filled with everyone he’s met at college he can't possibly fill in another card, especially not now in his inebriated state.

By the fourth beer and the final perfectly performed chorus of Bohemian Rhapsody Steve's scrabbling with his vintage leather jacket and begging Sam to hurry up. He throws a good look in the mirror and doesn’t think that he looks all that bad in his blue shirt and jeans that cup every curve of his thick legs expertly.

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re hot, Rogers,” Sam says when he catches Steve smiling a little to himself. He claps both hands on Steve’s shoulders and squeezes, clearly readying Steve for a bout of drunken nonsense, “You’re a bison now a big sexy bison, not a tiny calf...”

“You’re comparing me to cows?” Steve pouts and struggles to zip up his jacket on the first try.

“A bison. There’s a huuuge difference!” Sam rolls his eyes and pushes Steve out the door, before locking it behind them.

Steve is so very, very grateful for Sam.

“Can’t Get You Outta My Head?” Steve asks as they head down the damp street towards the thumping of the music guiding them in the right direction. He thinks that’s the song playing, the beat sounds familiar and for a second he finds it rudely fitting to his state of mind.

Sam gawps and gasps excitedly, “I think you’re right! _Kylie Mingog-ue-way_ ” Sam mispronounces and laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world.

When they finally reach the house Steve gets this feeling that they’ve been walking for at least an hour. He throws a look over his shoulder and frowns seeing the building where their dorm is. Weird, he thinks but shrugs the feeling of time moving without him off and as he turns back around he’s greeted by a blonde giant in the doorway to the house with a wide smile plastered to his face. Vivid colors dance behind him to one of ABBA’s greatest hits.

This party was playing what Steve thinks is the honey of music, even though he’d never tell Sam that and finds himself already enjoying being here and that without even having entered it. Turns out that college students have grown out of pretending to only like shitty house music.

The handsome stranger is holding what looks like a jar of beer and suddenly Steve’s crushed in a hug and immediately his senses are filled with warmth, overwhelmingly nice cologne mixed with the guy's own sweat. He rumbles, a booming laugh escaping him as he squeezes a little tighter before letting Steve go.

“Greetings fellow students!” the guy announces and goes to hug Sam who’s surprisingly fast to escape the crushing bicep coming his way. “You one of Bucky’s companions?” He points at them, Long, thick fingers covered in silver rings.”This is my house,” he pauses and sways for a moment “at least it is for another 12 hours, we’ve gotta give the ol’girl a proper send off.” He slaps the side of the old house. Steve worries that if he slaps any harder asbestos will come fluttering out.

“We got invited by Bucky, yes!” Sam bellows and Steve cringes at how overly excited his friend is. “But, we’re not his companions. We don’t really know him, well I don’t, Steve does.”

“Wilson” someone greets as they walk out next to the blonde giant.

“Clint!” Sam nearly jumps into a bro-like greeting and Steve can’t help but feel that aching friendship FOMO and the need to know more about who’s worthy of such a greeting. He eyes Clint up and down and shrinks a little in on himself.

Sam must notice because he instantly moves and flings an arm around Steve’s shoulders, “This is Steve,”

“Ah you’re Steve, he wasn’t lying about you then! I like your art, very cool” Clint greets him with a shake of the hand and the giant looks disappointed.

“Since my ‘friend’ over here completely forgot about  introducing me,” he reaches out a hand, “I’m Thor.”

“Thor?” Sam’s testing out the name on his tongue. “What kind of name is ‘Thor’?”

“A God’s name!” Thor beams and grabs Sam by the shoulders and drags him inside to the party like a rag-doll, leaving Steve with Clint and the chill of the early fall.

Steve loves the way the cool breeze feels on his skin and how the alcohol is lulling his body into believing it’s hotter outside. He knows he’ll probably catch a cold but right now it just feels so nice and-

“You coming?” Clint asks and drags Steve out of his own head.

Clint looks at him expectantly and then Steve hears a 70’s song that can only be described as _prog-disco_ starts playing and he sucks in a breath before realizing that Thor must have _the large blonde guy with terrible music taste_ gimmick covered on campus and he should probably find a new thing. He nods and follows Clint into the house, taking the steps two at a time.

There are a few familiar faces inside but quickly Steve misses the fresh air once he’s dragged further into the party and into a mass of people he doesn’t know. He keeps getting minor flashbacks to the previous parties he’s been to, where he was either on the outskirts or the center of attention for the entirely wrong reasons. Sam was always there to bring out the best in him but he can’t always be latching onto his friend. Force of habit means he looks around for Sam, spots him in a corner talking to what must be his classmates but he decides to not make his way over.

Steve doesn’t really pay much attention to the music being played but when he’s minding his own business, checking out the snack table, he’s suddenly pulled onto the dance floor by a bunch of girls to the unmistakable sound of The Spice Girls. He’s starting to wonder if coming here was the right choice, if partying is even worth the stress he feels before he manages to relax. Plus he hates The Spice Girls, he was always more of an All Saints guy. The girls are touchy, soft hands sliding up and down his arms like they know Steve, he looks at them, a blonde with a pixie cut and a brunette with hair tied up in a high ponytail that keeps whipping him in the face with every move she makes. They’re clearly drunk by the squealing noises and incoherent lyrics they’re yelling. But he can see that they’re having a good time, he’s a little bit distracted when the brunette’s ass grinds against his crotch and he feels that he’s lacking the alcohol and confidence to do more about it.

“Need a hand?” someone yells into his ear and he turns around to find Tony wagging his eyebrows and laughing out loud. Bucky’s draped happily by his side with an arm hanging over his shoulders. “C’mere!” Tony smiles and drags Steve off the dance floor and over to the table with various and copious amounts of cheap alcohol.

“Hi Steve,” Bucky says and Steve smiles at him awkwardly, too busy trying to figure out what kind of drink he wants but it’s a smile nonetheless. “The tropical punch is good” Bucky drawls and points to the pink bowl of orange.

“Thanks” Steve breathes and fills up a cup.

Tony crosses his arms and looks at him with an amused smirk. “Why are you looking like a deer caught in the headlights, Rogers?”

Steve nearly chokes on the punch, the bitterness of it surprised him. “I’m not really-” he clears his throat, “Not a big fan of parties.”

“Why?” Bucky snorts and grabs the drink out of his hand and finds a beer to replace it. “I think that was the sour punch, my bad.”

“Wait-” Tony eyes Steve. “Why don’t you like parties, hotshot?” he gestures to all of Steve like he’s a piece of art. Whenever that happened Steve liked to pretend it was always one of those modern art pieces, with angles everywhere, made from recycled iron or a receipt from a store of a long purchase made up of entirely white objects.

“Wasn’t always ‘hot shot’” Steve chuckles and takes a sip of the beer, trusting that none of them has secretly decided to drug him. “I’m shy I guess.”

“I’m shy” Tony mocks, his voice high and his lips move in a way like they don’t belong to him.  Steve glares at him but the darkness and the sound of _The Venga Boys_ doesn’t really get his point across.

“Why you shy man? You’re like… really _hot_ ” Bucky says and Tony’s eyes go wide before he taps his friend’s shoulder.

“Buck, go check on Banner. I think he’s setting up the beer pong.”

Steve watches as Bucky walks away, a little bounce to his steps when he spots the big NASA logo on Bucky’s back, It’s inside out and Steve notices the miscoloring at the hem. “What’s with the shirt?” he asks amused.

“Rogers,” Tony sighs and looks after his friend and points at the very happy looking Bucky across the room, “He wears it to like every party. He says it’s because the first time he stayed with me and Bruce and we took him to a party he got laid by two hot college girls and he’s trying to replicate those conditions to get the same outcome.” He pauses, “I think that he’s just uncomfortable at parties too, and that t-shirt is a better story and way less embarrassing than a blanket”

“I heard that Barnes was supposed to be this,” Steve pauses and cringes but he can’t think of a better word “ _Cool Guy_ ”

Tony takes a long drink from his bottle, “He’s only been at college for a month and he’s already got himself a bit of a reputation?”

Steve looks over to Bucky who is surrounded by a group of girls who are proverbially fanning themselves at every word he says. Bucky catches his eye and gives him a long smirk,  “Well, he is currently charming the hell out of that group of girls over there.”

“I don’t know how he does it, he’s so ‘ _not Bucky_ ’ with girls, a nightmare with everyone else.”

Steve crosses his arms and shrugs, “I don’t think he’s a nightmare.”

Tony pats Steve on the shoulder, “I’m sure he feels just as magnanimous towards you buddy.”

He doesn’t take Barnes to be the shy guy or someone who doesn’t love parties and by the way, he’s giving a dangerous look to a girl over the snack table, he’s not really doing much to prove Tony’s theory. Maybe he is cool with it all, or maybe that’s just Steve projecting. In his head, Bucky is carefree and cool, like the guys that used to tease Steve for every little thing he did or didn’t do.

Tony squeezes down on Steve’s shoulder, “You play beer pong?”

“I’ve never played.”

“Oh boy, you’re so gonna join!” he grabs a hold of Steve’s bicep and drags him along through the crowd of people and they stop at a table surrounded by overly excited people. “Everyone!” Tony announces, “This is Steve, everyone say ‘Hi Steve’”.

There’s a rousing rebuttal of ‘ _Hi Steve_ ’, like he’s a kindergarten teacher saying good morning to his kids.

“He’s never played beer pong, so we’re gonna team up. And everyone, please try not to get him too wasted.”

Steve spots Natasha standing next to Thor with a red cup in her hand looking like she knows what she’s doing. She smiles at him and winks.

“Steve, you’re with Thor and Nat!” Tony says and pushes him over to them. “Bucky, Banner - you’re with Clint.”

* * *

 

“Guys, I can’t take another round ring of fire.” Sam groans, his face screwed up in disgust. He takes a long inhale, clearly trying to bite back a wave of nausea. Steve holds back a chuckle as Sam holds up a wavering finger, the colour draining from his face quicker than the words can tumble from his lips.

“Who...” Sam pauses and swallows down whatever he ate for dinner, Steve recalls fajitas, “Who put Irish cream in the dirty pint?” he groans again and makes a sound of a dying whale.

“I’m curious as to who’s even drinking Irish cream at a house party?” Natasha sneers whilst swirling her red wine in its glass.

Steve looks around at the people in their corner of the party. He catches Tony rolling his eyes and muttering something to Banner before he speaks up.

“Look, I didn’t know it would curdle!” Tony chirps, throwing his hands in the air.

Bruce crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Stark, “Yes, you did!”

Tony shakes his head and he holds up his hands in defeat, “Alright, alright. Fine! I knew it would,” he tips his beer bottle towards Sam and grins, “Gotcha!”

Sam’s sigh comes out at agonized and tired. “Okay, truth or dare?” he announces, thoroughly done with Ring of Fire.

Everyone hums in agreement. Steve leans back against the couch he’s got behind his back, somehow he ended up on the floor after the beer pong game and he hasn’t moved since. He watches as Bucky tries to snatch the beer bottle from Tony's lips. He’s quick, moving fast enough so the bottle doesn't collide with Tony’s teeth. Tony flinches anyway, about to let go of the beer but hears the squelching sound that it is yet to be drained and chugs the rest of the beer before triumphantly thrusting the bottle into Bucky’s grabbing hands.

Bucky places the bottle on the green carpet. Steve notices a sharp look in his eyes, determination written all over with the tip of his tongue pressing out between his lips in concentration as if spinning a bottle is the most complex task in the world. He wants to tell Bucky it isn’t rocket science, but Steve keeps his mouth shut.

Bucky twists the bottle hard on its axis and it swirls on the carpet, singing as the air rushed across the open neck of the bottle. They all watch it in anticipation, the questions brewing in everyone’s heads like slot machines so when the bottle stops they’re all ready to fire away with whatever question drops down on their tongue.

It peeters to a stop, pointing directly at Steve.

Sam whines and Steve lets out a sigh. “Dare!” he announces definitively and points at sternly, “Not you, Wilson!” he watches as Sam’s biting down the disappointment. Sam’s a legitimate nightmare when he’s drunk. Once, he made Steve eat a dead spider for a dollar when they were seventeen and he was drunk off his face on his Dad’s stolen Ouzo.

Steve watches as Sam looks to Natasha who's sat on his right, her face lighting up with possibility and it makes Steve nervous. Maybe he should’ve let Sam have this.

“Okay, Steve” Natasha drawls and leans forward a little, her red hair messed up from the intense beer pong game they had earlier, “I dare you to make out with Darcy!” she points to the girl sitting next to Bucky. Bucky straightens his back and looks over  at Steve and rolls his tongue between his lips again. Bucky was either part lizard or trying to tell Steve something. Maybe Darcy is part lizard and he’s trying to warn Steve. _What a nice guy_. Steve shakes his head like a magic 8 ball in the hope that a coherent thought would come out of it before he has to move towards Darcy and Bucky.

“What are we in 9th grade?” Clint barks, from his lounged position in the ring of college students and Steve looks over.

“It’s my dare!” Natasha hisses, throwing one of her boots in Clint’s direction. She sits up straight and lifts her chin a little, “ _Fine_. Take your shirt off, jeans too, might as well have a dare the benefits everyone!” She smiles whilst performing undressing motion, her eyes focusing more on Clint than on Steve.

“Can I just do the first one?” Steve quips whilst fumbling with the first of his buttons.

Darcy quirks her eyebrows and mumbles something that’s lost in the room. A few other girls in the circle send daggers Darcy’s way in the hope that she wouldn’t protest again.

“No,” Nat clicks her tongue. “Shirt off, pretty boy” she drawls sipping slowly at her wine.

Steve groans and shucks the blue shirt from his shoulders. The air isn’t cool but to be free of any fabric on his upper body causes him to get goosebumps. He can feel everyone staring at him, “Not drunk enough for this, Nat” he mutters.

The rest of the game moves swiftly on. Tony drinks the rest of dirty pint with Sam’s instance and with absolute glee plastered across his face as the curds of Irish cream pass over Tony’s lips. Natasha ends up in the same state of undress as Steve, Thor too, apparently their dares weren't very inventive, either that or everyone was really horny. One of the only people to choose truth is Bucky who announces that the strangest place he’s has had sex was on an empty subway carriage on the night of his eighteenth birthday.

Steve’s chest tightness a little at that and causing him to think of the weirdest place he’s ever had sex is in the tree cabin in his garden with Peggy.

“Okay, it’s my term… turn” Steve slurs whilst scrabbling for the bottle. He spins it, the bottle slides on the carpet a little but points at Thor. Steve grins at Thor who reciprocates the smile with enthusiasm.

Thor slaps his thick thighs before announcing, “Okay Steven!” Thor booms, “Truth!”

Steve narrows his eyes and peers into the neck of his beer bottle. He sticks out his lower lip in thought and points his bottle towards Thor, “Who would you want to sleep with most in the whole room?”

“You” Thor states with a raised chin and a glint to his eyes. If Thor wasn't looking directly at Steve, he’s sure the hot blonde would have been talking about someone else.

“Come on man, be serious” Steve chuckles a little nervous now, worried about the red hue blossoming across his bare chest.

Thor shakes his head and smiles, brows furrowed as if saying ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’, “I am” he says and tilts his head.

There a little pause, an awkward silence as if someone’s said something that shouldn’t have been spoken out loud and Steve haven’t felt this on display since he got out of the pool in seventh grade and his trunks had slipped off. Steve coughs and nods while uttering a small, “Thanks”. He would rather rub bath salts in his eyes than look at Thor directly in the eyes right now.

“Oh yeah, you’re just Thor’s type. Well everyone is Thor’s type” Tony laughs. Clint joins in nodding and chuckling, clearly verifying Tony's comment.

“So, you’ve slept with guys?” Steve stutters before trying to take a sip from his bottle and colliding it with his teeth. He's too distracted to wince in pain.

Thor shrugs, “And you haven’t?” Thor asks.

Darcy leans in to the conversation, her eyes prick in interest. Steve can feel her eyes bore into them. Hell, he can feel everyone look at them.

Steve looks directly to the left of Thor’s face, “No? When did…”

Tony coughs loudly and waves Steve down, “No, Rogers you get one question!”

People started peeling away from the truth or dare circle after Tony dared Sam to eat a bar of soap and Sam took one perfect bite out of it and then tapped out. Steve redressed much to the chorus of groans that followed him as he buttoned up his shirt. Now he finds himself talking to the blonde girl from earlier that had dragged him onto the dance floor. He’s trying his best to avoid Thor and this girl is keeping him occupied with small talk and sweet smiles.

Steve likes her, she’s talking warmly of her friends, loves art but she’s on social studies and she’s just… not Steve’s type at all. He tries to scrape his brain as to reasons why he doesn’t wanna take her up into a bedroom, undress her out of her loose t-shirt and have fun. There’s an attraction there, he thinks.

“Wanna dance?” he asks when she’s going on about how she misses her dog. He’s pretty she’s about to cry, he gets it though, he went through that stage over leaving Sam’s dog, Rocket and Sam cried every night for a week.

She doesn't seem upset by his interruption and Steve pulls her up on her feet from the worn out couch they’ve been lounging on and leads her onto the dance floor. The music thumps in bubblegum pop crescendos and the alcohol has settled into a braveness like a soft fire dominating his entire being. They start by slowly dancing, hips moving to the beat and falling quickly into a rhythm. She leans against him, ass against his crotch, her petite hand coming up to cup his face and she presses a soft kiss to his jaw. He melts a little like she’s made out of fire and burning down his facade. He lets his hands slide down her waist and settles them on her hips, head hanging low next to her ear and he kisses her cheek.

When he looks up it’s like he’s trapped in a field full of mines, the air is hot, the tension touchable and his eyes lock with none other but Barnes’ from across the dancefloor. He’s not dancing with anyone, he’s just there in that stupid NASA shirt, worn out jeans and leather boots swaying smoothly along to the beat of this tacky song. He sips his red cup of god knows what and blinks slowly at Steve, a soft smirk plastered to his face as he raises his chin as if he’s daring Steve. He turns the pretty girl in his arms around and holds her close before leaning down to kiss her. He can feel her happy vibrations, her little giggle as he breaks the kiss to a peck but then she licks into his mouth to deepen the kiss. Steve can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, he does but it’s not what he wants. He’s not entirely sure what he wants. She so soft in his hands, so pliant and he doesn’t like the way she’s molding into his touch. It’s too easy. She tastes like the fruit punch and Steve’s body is telling him to stop but a part of his mind tells him to keep going. When he looks up and sees that Barnes’ stopped dancing, their eyes lock, drawn to one another and Steve deepens the kiss by grabbing the back of the girl's neck, causing her to moan. Steve sees that Bucky’s jaw clenches a little, the grip on his cup making dents into the red plastic and Steve’s sure that if he squeezed a little harder the cup would break.

The song changes into something else and for a split second Steve looks down at the girl in his arms and when he looks back, Bucky’s gone.


	4. Retrograde

The cold air licks the sweat across Steve’s skin. He isn’t as drunk as he thought he was, not anymore anyway. His mind feels as clear like a night sky above a Swiss mountain range and he feels cold even though he just came out of the stuffed party where he swears he could feel the sweat dripping from the ceiling. When he pulls out his phone and tries to focus on the home screen he realizes he’s not that sober as he first assumed. The numbers are blurry, looking like they're dancing around the screen like the fae around a mushroom circle. Perhaps his mind’s more like the night sky above New York, light pollution obscuring the stars.

He deciphers the time quickly and stuffs the phone back into his jean pocket. Usually, he’s more careful of his screen, not to turn the hairline fractures into deep caverns with rough handling but the alcohol was making some rash decisions for him tonight. He thinks back to Bucky, the girl and how confident he felt for thirty minutes or less.

He’s back to feeling like Steve. Conscious of his entire being and feeling a bit like a dick.

Suddenly a large hand is placed on his shoulder. He can feel the warmth of it radiate through the cotton of his shirt. He turns around to see two blue eyes similar to his own.

“Steven!” Thor smiles, this time it’s not a wide grin but a soft smile like he’s preoccupied with something unpleasant. “Sorry about earlier. I feel I may have misread the signals” Thor pats down on Steve’s shoulder again, purposely making his movements comforting and not lingering. Thor’s face is mild and apologetic. Everything about Thor feels incredibly purposeful yet totally relaxed at the same time. Like everything he does ends up being the right decision, even if it feels like the wrong one at the time.

Steve likes Thor, but he thinks it may be impossible not to like him. He’s like if someone crossed a Golden Retriever and a saint and put it in the body of a Nordic God.

Steve hopes his smile is decipherable through the small amount of light that teems from the windows from the house, “Thor it’s fine, I just didn’t think you could be hitting on me” Steve pauses as he watches Thor’s face screw up like he’s accidentally walked into a spiderweb. “You just don’t seem the type to be into guys,” Steve adds like it’s supposed to be a saving grace.

There’s something enigmatic about Thor. It’s like he’d been raised on another planet, by two aliens that had a list of earth behaviors, traits, and characteristics taken from a cross-section of the population. Thor had the confidence of a frat boy six beers deep, the hopeful glint in his eyes like a seven-year-old watching footage of a rocket catapulting into space, the kind soul of a missionary, the gentleness of a grandmother and the unabashed freedom of a gay couple at a pride parade. It was odd but unequivocally endearing. It all scares Steve.

“What is the type?” Thor chuckles and puts his hands in his pockets, an amused but steadily intrigued smile on his face.

There a moment of silence and Steve grows nervous, ashamed even before he answers. “I don’t know” he laughs and shakes his head. He genuinely doesn’t know what to say, although he can feel the notion of finding someone so much like himself being free in their sexuality kind of scary but most of all freeing. He’s not sure why it’s so freeing and he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling. He wants to keep it locked away for safekeeping, to crack it out when the situation calls for it. But then the idea of locking up the weightless freedom? It feels like filling a boat with a fireman’s hose and watching it sink.

Steve is half tempted to tell Thor that he will most definitely call him if he ever changes his mind but by the time he plucks up the courage, or at least fathoms the sentence, Thor has made his way back inside and Steve yet again left by someone intriguing.

* * *

 

There’s a softness to the party when it’s passed one in the morning. Everyone is either making out, laughing together on the floor while slow dancing to a playlist he saw Natasha put on. She had given him the hazy shush finger and jogged off to Clint who had pulled her into a strangely tender kiss.

Which is now why Steve’s sitting on the couch with a heavy heart, staring into an empty red solo cup and filled with a slight uneasiness he hasn’t felt in years. He looks around the room for Sam to no avail. He can see Banner talking idly to Darcy who’s rolling her eyes and talking back.

Steve leans back into the coach, the smell of college seeps out of it. He can't place what the smell is, a mixture of B.O. and beer and a multitude of other smells, it's unmistakably college. He screws up his nose and tries to reposition himself. Thor is in his new eyeline, he's talking to a girl named Carol, his palm on her shoulder eyes locked and sparkling. She calls over a dark haired girl and kisses her on the cheek and Thor shakes her hand. Steve looks over Thor, he's beautiful he can't deny it, hair like spun sunshine and plains of muscle that Steve couldn't peel his eyes away from despite his best efforts during truth or dare. A lump collects in his throat as he scans over Thor, there's no harm in that, he tells himself. He understands what women see in men like Thor. Strong arms and a thick jaw set in golden marble. He wouldn't mind a chance to try he thinks, just for a moment. And just like that Bucky's laugh pulls his attention away from Thor, Steve can feel his breath hitch when he thinks that he can understand what all those girls see in Bucky too.

Steve crosses his legs instinctively as Tony approaches the couch. 

“You’re looking incredibly morose, Rogers,” Tony says and dumps down next to him in the old couch. “What’s up?”

Is he going to pour his heart out to Tony? No. Is he going to tell him that the thought of being dragged into a dark corner by the party's host has flitted across his mind and his crotch? Absolutely not. 

“I haven’t been this drunk in a couple of years. I think I’m just sobering up and it’s not fun.”

“Have another beer.”

“The party is over, I’m not gonna get more-”

“Who says it’s over, Rogers?” Tony snorts and shakes his head. “Wait here” he commands and Steve stays put watching him walk off to the kitchen. He comes back with two beers and hands Steve one of them. “Quality brew,” he says and Steve notices there isn’t any label on it. Just a plain brown bottle, “What?”

“What is this?” Steve asks and sniffs it. There’s a bitterness to it but with a hint of cloves and cinnamon.

“Home brewed” Tony winks. “Beer with 16%. Now stop sulking and have another.”

Steve does as he’s told because he doesn’t want the remaining hours to be miserable. The beer is actually pretty good and he feels really good until he ends up having two, then three of them and realizing he hasn’t had food or water for hours.

“I need the bathroom,” he says to Tony as they start looking through the playlists on Thor’s computer. “Just go with, ‘ _ songs to fuck to _ ’, Tony” he mumbles when he feels his stomach flip.

“You planning on getting laid Rogers?” 

“No, but someone else might want to -” Steve falls silent mid-sentence and sways along to something by _Massive Attack_ for a moment, before remembering what he was talking to Tony about, “Is there a toilet in here, doesn’t Thor do that sorta thing?”

“The bathroom is up the stairs. The downstairs one is busted.”

“And they didn't bother to fix-” Steve’s stomach lurches and his mind hazes over as Tony carefully gives him the location of the upstairs toilet.

“D’ya get that cap?” Tony looks at him, clearly aware that Steve hadn’t listened to a word he said.

“What?” Steve asks, stupidly.

“The toilet?”

“Oh, yeah” Steve lies. How hard could it be to find a toilet on the second floor of a house? He’s been in houses before, seen plenty of toilets even tackled a few staircases in his time. He’s got this.

Steve hurries to the bathroom upstairs, his legs feeling like they’re not there, making the stairs seeming endless. Once he gets upstairs and he sees a hallway of full of doors that seems to extend into the sprawling dark horizon. He's not sure he'd be able to look Tony in the eye ever again if he went crawling back downstairs for the location of the toilet, again.

“Where the fuck’s the bathroom?” he mutters to himself as the starts to check the rooms. Most of them are locked and he’s starting to panic a little when he opens two only to find someone sleeping in one and feeling bad for possibly having woken them up with his drunken ‘sorry’s’. He finds a couple of girls doing something else in the other, but he’s too close to expelling the entirety of his insides to care.

“There’s a bathroom to your left.”

Steve freezes as he recognizes the voice.

“Like, if you take one more step to your left and twist the handle…”

“Bucky” Steve means to whisper but it comes out pretty audible and Bucky smiles at him smugly from where he’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Puke or piss?” he asks.

“Both” Steve replies and swallows down the bile rising in the back of his throat.

“Left” he points to the door that has WC written on it.

For a second he just stares at it, wondering how he could possibly be so blind, “Yes” Steve replies and locks himself inside the bathroom.

He stands there, head buzzing like a beehive that’s been kicked down the stairs, gut-twisting like a wet rag and he falls to his knees over the toilet where he empties his guts out like it’s the first time he’s ever been drunk. The tears are pricking behind his eyes, the bitterness of having emptied his mostly alcohol filled stomach burning in his throat and he’s feeling so tired, so so tired. He’s basically hugging the toilet, he’s a toilet hugger now. 

There’s a soft knocking on the door. “You alright in there?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah” Steve wipes at his mouth, rinses the taste out under the tap, stands up, does the second half of his business, washes his hands and spots a tube of toothpaste when a thought comes to his mind. “Would it be rude of me to steal some toothpaste?” he asks loudly, hoping Bucky’s still outside.

“You stealing a toothbrush too?” Bucky asks Steve can hear the smile.

“No?” he smiles and looks at the red, blue and white tube.

“Then go ahead.”

Steve rubs the toothpaste into his teeth and gums to rinse his mouth of the acidic taste and gives himself a quick look in the mirror. His blue shirt has a few unknown stains on them, his eyes are glassy but his hair for some reason, still looks good and he can see the outlines of his triceps beneath his shirt and he doesn’t feel all that bad about himself. It took him years of reassurance by Sam and enough alcohol to take down a horse but Steve can admit he’s kinda sexy. He nods at himself in the mirror and heads for the door. He swings it open to find Bucky leaning against the doorframe, Steve almost collides with him.

“Hey” is all Bucky says and Steve is overwhelmed by the intense feeling washing over him. It’s the same one as the one he had on the dance floor earlier, that magnetic pull, that hotness and uncertainty tinged with curiosity. It’s a different kind of sickness. He swallows down the nervousness, aggressive butterflies with razor blade tipped wings flutter manically inside of him.

“Hi” he says back, leaning on the other side of the doorframe. He feels like a character in one of his noir movies, hiding around in the shadows, talking in hushed tones.

Bucky doesn’t blink, just stares into Steve’s eyes.

Something flicks within them and before Steve can decipher what the change was, Bucky’s large hand is placed between Steve’s pecs and he pushes him back inside the bathroom and closes the door in one swift move like a trained spy.

Steve doesn’t know what’s about to happen but he’s can make a couple of educated guesses, “Bucky…” he mutters as he looks at the guy in front of him, dark hair mussed and bottom lip red where he’d clearly been chewing on it. 

“Steve” Bucky drawls, elongating the vowels and popping the ‘v’. Steve could feel himself staring at the deep pink of his lower lip. Steve can feel each one of his nerve endings prickle with anticipation.

“What are you-” Steve begins but then stops as Bucky leans in closer and Steve can feel the energy surge like someone strapped a bag of golf clubs to them both during a thunderstorm.

A  _ Queen’s of the Stone Age _ song thumps through the walls, the bass only enforcing the already pulsating, hard-to-breathe situation. He can feel the song through his being, the heat of Bucky’s body and the how the butterflies ungulate through his bones making him ache.

“Buck…” he breathes and swallows. He’s shaking, the nervousness and anticipation causing his breath to hitch and all of his senses are overwhelmed by Bucky’s presence. If Steve moves his face a little to the right, they’ll kiss.

He doesn’t even get the chance to move away before Bucky’s made the move and gone to his left.

The kiss shouldn’t surprise Steve but it does. Instead of a soft cheek and perfume, there’s stubble and a strong musk that’s overwhelming to his senses. There are peanuts and beer instead of sweet mint bubblegum and it feels so different. His body responding in ways it’s never responded to anyone before, heat tears through his body like a forest fire burning through the dry landscape.

He leans into Bucky, just for a moment, testing Bucky and himself. This gives Bucky the confidence to wrap a steady hand around the back of Steve’s neck. Steve pushes into Bucky, his hand fisting into the front of his shirt, he pulls the brunette closer and Bucky moans a light breathy gasp into Steve. It feels glorious. and new, like a sunrise on an alien planet.

The heat burns and burns, everything about this is different and searingly hot, he can feel the blood rushing away from his face for once. He knows this isn’t bad different, which is utterly terrifying and Steve jolts away on instinct. This equals in accidentally shoving Bucky to the side which causes him to lose his footing and he ends up between the toilet and the bathtub, tearing down a cup of toothbrushes with him in the process. As Steve stares at him, eyes wide and heart galloping like a dozen horses, he feels a knot form in his stomach and his lungs scream at him to get air, to get out.

“It’s ok, my bad” Bucky says and it looks like he’s getting comfortable on the floor, he shoots Steve a sad smile and throws his hands up in defeat. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just thought… The dance floor?”  He crosses his arms over his chest like he’s curling in on himself, ashamed. He shrugs, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not gay” Steve says under his breath. He thinks of Thor. The conversation from earlier and the strange emotions he’s had over the past few weeks. Then he thinks of Peggy and the girl from before and the way Nat made his heart flip when he first saw her.  

“No?” Bucky sucks in his bottom lip, draws a knee up so he can pick at the threads of his ripped jeans.

Steve shakes his head and closes his eyes, “No.”

“Like I said, my bad.”

Steve can’t remember what he says to Bucky before leaving the bathroom, he can’t remember walking down the stairs or finding Sam. But Sam’s in front of him, shaking his shoulders gently trying to get Steve to respond. Sam keeps asking him if somethings wrong, if Steve needs his inhaler if he needs anything at all.

Everyone is cautiously glancing at him. Tony looks at Steve and the stairs and then back at Steve. He asks Steve something but Steve can’t make out what he’s saying.

“I just wanna go home,” he tells Sam.

“Alright, let’s go.”

*

For some reason, the temperature outside feels different. It’s humid, gross like a thick layer has been added over Steve’s skin and its shrinking. Sam’s by his side all the way back, not saying a word but Steve can feel the worry seeping out of him like an anxious mother. Great, now he’s comparing Sam to his mother, surely that's healthy.

When they get back to their dorm, Steve kicks off his shoes and runs his hands over his face in frustration trying to force back the tears and the words that are threatening to spill. Sam’s jaw is clenched, his arms crossed and he’s looking at Steve like he’s trying to detect whatever is wrong. Sam can usually read Steve like he’d written what he’s feeling all over his body in big ugly black letters.

“What did you take?” Sam asks.

“I didn’t-” Steve groans. Out of all the things that’s what Sam thinks, “I haven’t done drugs, Sam!” Steve blinks and presses his hands to his face and lets out a frustrated whine. He hasn’t felt this bad, so close to an attack since his first day of freshman year of high school. It feels like someone’s grabbing at his lungs and they pull, pull, pull until it hurts and- “I can’t breathe” Steve wheezes and heaves for air like he’d be catapulted into space without a helmet. “Sam” he croaks out, terrified.

Steve’s fainted from his attacks before, he had one in the gym once and ended up dropping a weight on his foot that resulted in four broken bones in his foot and a cast. He’s familiar with the feeling, but it’s not one he’s particularly fond of. As a child he fainted because he got on the wrong train and all the adults had closed in on him, not knowing that all he needed was air and that his inhaler that was at the bottom of his rucksack.

Sam rushes over to Steve’s desk and rummages around trying to find the inhaler, clearly stressing. “Where is it?” he asks to no one because he does know, it’s just not there.

“Steve?” he growls.

“Bathroom,” he tries to swallow, count to ten, he tries to focus, “Sink.”

For a second Sam’s gone and then he’s back with it and a glass of water. He thrusts it into Steve’s hand and he presses the button, inhales deeply and holds it for a second before he breathes out, relieved.

As Steve gets his breathing back to normal he avoids looking at Sam. He’d rather pick at the little callus on his palm from weightlifting rather than tell Sam the real reason behind all of this.

“You need to tell me what the hell’s going on, man” Sam narrows his eyes. “Look at me” he demands and Steve looks away. “You’re expecting me to believe you haven’t taken drugs when you deliberately avoid looking at me?” he snorts.

“I haven’t taken anything!” Steve snaps and walks over to his bed where he sits down. He should’ve stayed here, he shouldn’t have gone to the party. He sighs, “I promise you.”

“Yeah?” Sam raises a brow and tilts his head. “Why you so damn upset then?”

“I…” Steve thinks of Bucky. His warmth, his smile, the way he’d pressed against Steve before kissing him and Steve’s world had exploded with feelings he couldn’t have even begun to fathom on the short walk back from Thor’s house. Feelings that scare him. “I just am.”

Sam’s eyes go wide. “So, that’s it? You just upset for no reason?”

He knows he’s being unfair. Sam’s been there through it all, from the good to the bad. He should talk to Sam about this at least to verbalize what he’s feeling. He knows it’s ok, today, to feel the way he does. Loads of people are gay, loads of people are bisexual. But among all the nice feelings there’s a fear of having his entire world turned upside down and Steve’s not ready for that. He’s not sure he wants that. He feels trapped, clinging desperately to the world he’d built from the ground up, only to have it shattered by that dimple chinned idiot.

Loving a girl seems so simple, comfortable. Whereas loving and being with a guy, in the same way, is causing his brain to short circuit. Maybe he’s mistaking the excitement his body and mind feels for fear and anxiety? He can’t tell. All he knows is that it’s paralyzing and he’d very much like it to stop.

He gives Sam a shrug and wipes at his eyes. He’d rather punch through a thousand bullies than deal with this.

Sam’s tone softens, “Steve, C' mon man. You know you can tell me anything.”

Steve doesn’t reply and his body goes into autopilot and he undresses and slides under the covers.

“You serious?” he can hear Sam mutter. Sam goes to turn the lights off and then he leaves for the bathroom. Steve can hear the cursing through the wall and water running. When Sam’s done he comes back out and Steve can feel his eyes burning into the back of his head as he lays there with his back turned on his best friend. “You don’t have to tell me, alright. But I’m still gonna be here for you whenever you’re ready to talk about it.”

Steve’s heart sinks and he can hear it agonizing thumping in the palm of his hand as he squeezes his eyes shut trying not to cry. He doesn’t deserve Sam. He didn’t deserve Sam when he was pulling Steve off bullies when they were in 6th grade and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve him now.

“Night, Steve.”

And then the last light is out.

There’s something about the darkness that makes everything either colossal or insignificant. He doesn’t know exactly where Sam stands on his opinions towards the LGBTQ+ community and a small part of Steve is afraid his friend won’t… it’s dumb, he realizes and lets out a breath. Sam’s one of the most accepting people he knows if Steve was an alien he’d probably be fine with that too.

He tries to find the courage in the facelessness of the darkness, he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before he turns around in his bed and sighs deeply.

“Spill the beans, Rogers” Sam says and Steve looks into the blackness of the room. There’s only a tiny strip of light coming from under the blinds from the street lamps out on campus, “I can hear your brain churning.”

His heartbeat echoes in his ears and he’s not sure how to phrase his sentence, is it a question or a confession? I kissed someone, a guy, tonight? I think like guys and girls, are you ok with that? I’m bi… please don’t hate me? Or maybe he’d just burst into the chorus of ‘ _ Bye Bye Baby _ ’ by  _ The Bay City Rollers _ . Steve’s sweating and twists in his bed again, this time facing the ceiling. Sam would be ok with it, he thinks and closes his eyes. Hoping.

“I think…” he starts but stops.

Sam waits patiently, he doesn’t say a word as if he speaks he thinks he’ll scare Steve away.

“I think I’m bi.” He pauses, but the word felt right on his tongue, “Yeah I think I am.”

Silence. Steve jumps at the sound of someone kicking a garbage can outside and whooping out loud but other than that there’s silence.

“Sam-” he starts but Sam’s chuckling, his laugh light and soft and Steve turn as if he’s looking at his friend, “What?”

“Is that-” he says but cuts himself off, “Ok, so this is why you’ve been freaking out?” Steve hears him shuffle under his covers and when Steve mutters out an unsure ‘yes’ Sam lets out a sound of relief. “I didn’t expect that, not sure what I was expecting but I did think you were dying… wait” Sam stops to think and it’s quiet for a second before he goes, “You thought I wouldn’t be ok with this?”

“I don’t know” Steve mutters.

“I don’t understand it, at all,” Sam confesses “But I’m not going to think any less or different of you. You know that?”

“I just…” Steve runs a hand through his hair and blinks at the darkness, “It’s always been there? These feelings y’know. But I’ve only ever allowed myself to be with girls, I’ve been too scared to walk up to a guy. I loved Peggy, you know that and after her, it’s only been casual here and there with girls. But tonight, after what Thor said-”

“He’s great” Sam chuckles, “He asked me if you were single.”

“Wha-”

“Anyway, continue, sorry!”

Steve narrows his eyes, “He asked- ok, anyway, it got me thinking. I was thinking about it all night and then something weird happened on the dancefloor. I made out with this girl but Barnes was looking and I was looking back and-”

“Barnes?”

Out of all the things Steve’s telling Sam, he’s hung up on Bucky’s name. Steve rolls his eyes and grunts out, “He kissed me.”

“Wait, what?” Sam makes a face, Steve can sense it, even in the darkness. “Why’d he do that?”

Steve swallows and looks down at his hands, “We were in the bathroom and there’s been this _ tension _ between us since I met him, something I haven’t been able to understand and when he kissed me,” Steve takes a deep breath, “It just took me by surprise I guess, how much I liked it, but then it also made a whole lot of sense.”

“Barnes?”

“Am I not clear enough?” Steve says, a little exasperated and gestures with his hands, “Yes, James Barnes, the guy they all call Bucky.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam says, Steve, can hear the amusement in his voice, the way he lets out a tiny sigh at the end as if he’s pleased. “Man, I know how it is to like someone and even if you’re gay or bi I think you need to sort your feelings out. You can tell me shit like this, and I’m glad you did because I know for a fact you’ll feel ten times better in the morning and when we go over to Thor’s new place on Sunday you can talk to him too, I'm sure he'll help.”

“No dude I don’t like him, like him. He’s hot and we made out, that’s it” Steve shrugs hard enough that Sam can hear the rustle of sheets as he moves.

Sam snickers quietly before responding, “Sorry, usually whenever you make-out with anyone you’ve already bought a wedding ring”

“Fuck off Sam” Steve groans, he was tempted to throw the lamp on the table in the general vicinity of Sam’s head.

“There’s the Rogers I know!”

“Wait...We’re going to Thor’s?” the confusion hits Steve harder than the airbag in his mother’s old Corolla. “Since when?” he curls further under his cover and frowns.

“Yeah, he needed some help with furniture so he invited everyone over and said he’d pay for the food afterward. This probably happened when you went to the bathroom? Anyway, now you know.”

Steve doesn’t reply. His brain is done with thinking for today and the moment he closes his eyes he can feel the sleepiness pull over him like a warm comforter.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?” he opens his eyes and instantly feels cold. “What?” he mumbles.

“Thank you.”

Steve hums, “For what?”

“Telling me.”

Something in Steve’s chest swells to the size of a planet, Sam is far better to him that he could ever de-

Suddenly Sam breaks the serene silence, “So, is Barnes your type then?”

“No idea” Steve grumbles back, annoyed that Sam didn’t leave their 4 am confessions on a poetic end.

“You love a good brunette don’t you,” Sam jibes. He can almost hear Sam’s wink in through the blackness of their room.

“Go the fuck to sleep, Sam.”


	5. I Wont Hurt You

When Steve gets to the gym on Sunday morning he can’t help but find it oddly quiet. People at his old gym would usually deal with the guilt of their weekend indulgences that made the gym bustle with life on Sundays, Mondays and even Tuesdays. The equipment was often piled by various people’s water bottles who couldn’t decide on the weight they needed so they took every set of dumbells they could from 5kg to 25kg. The treadmills had lines long enough that rivaled a bank on pension day. One day there was a guy curling in the squat rack, the local weightlifting club ran him out like a mob with pitchforks.  It wasn’t until Wednesdays rolled around that it started to slow down and the gym started to fill up with people who took the gym a little more seriously. It got quieter and quieter as the week grew further on until the cycle started again.

He likes the campus gym, the membership is cheap and the equipment isn’t half bad. Its spread over two floors, the cardio equipment overlooking the free weights area. Apparently, it used to be the other way around until someone dropping a particularly heavy deadlift made the drawbacks of putting weightlifting equipment above a suspended ceiling painfully clear.

Steve moves over to the bench and barbell and sets down his stuff next to it. He twists the bar to check it’s not bent and begins to load the bar. He performs set after set, adding plates as he goes. Ever since he’s gained the weight he’s been good at the bench press and his physique reflected that. Sam even has his number saved as ‘Captain Big Tits’ on his phone. He prides himself that benching 450lb is no problem. He’d grown so quickly he didn’t know what to do with himself. He remembers some guy coming up to him and asked him where he got his gear from and another time when he’d tried to ward off a pickpocket they took one look at him and bolted. That was new.

He loads the rest of the weight onto the bar and looks around the expanse of the gym. He notices one of the guys from his class that he’s written a programme for and smiles at him. Marcus came up to Steve one day in class and asked about Steve’s routine. They ended up completely engrossed in gym talk instead of paying attention to the importance of observing the color wheel. He can’t help but feel pride blossom in his chest as Marcus is actually here, sticking to it. He sees a girl with dark hair, tied up into a ponytail, and biceps big enough to crush a planet walking over to the drinking fountain who nods a greeting at him before getting a drink. He’s pretty sure she’s the head of some kind of all female street fighting gang. She’s hot but he’s certain she’d eat him or any mortal man alive which made her even hotter in Steve’s book.

The gym is a place for Steve to get out of his own head whenever his thoughts are rattling like a caged chimpanzee, loud and sad. It’s another escape from reality, more draining than when he’s using his paintbrush but it’s just as efficient and gives good results. He’s more confident, but he still feel like he’s not there yet. Wherever there is.

He unpauses his music and lays back on to the bench. He tightens his core and arches slightly and unracks the weight to the screeching guitars of  _ Black Flag _ . The bar is heavy in his hands and he can feel the strain on his wrists. Then, like a storm out of nowhere on a beautiful summer’s day - he’s thinking about the strain everywhere else again; his talk with Sam in the darkness of their room, the crush of Bucky’s lips against his own in the tiny bathroom, half hard and shocked at his body’s response leaving him more confused than he’s ever been before. He’s thinking about college and about his future as an artist. He’s thinking about what an absolute shit storm he’s managed to churn up within himself. Fighting when he was 90lb soaking wet was far easier than this.

He thinks that he thinks too damn much.

A deep rattle shakes throughout his entire body as the bar collides with his chest. When he frantically looks around himself he can see that he’s not put the safeties high enough and he’s pinned under the bar. He’s not hurt, he’s just trapped with not enough strength to push the dead weight from his chest. He tries not to struggle as not waste energy whilst he figures out what the hell to do. He can feel sweat collecting in his palms and in a V formation through the grey of his t-shirt.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he squiggles under the bar, trying to get himself into a better position. The neon lights overhead are blindingly bright and not helping the situation at all. He wonders if this is where he’ll die. His mind quickly jumping to the conclusion that he’s had a nice life. He’s been a good guy. He’s pretty sure he’ll end up in the good place. Maybe Sam will get his name engraved on this bench, ‘Steven G. Rogers died here because the damn idiot didn’t think he needed a spot.’

Suddenly there are two large hands that clasp around the bar lightening the load which enables Steve to push up and lift the bar back into the rack with a rattle that seems to shake the entire gym, but that’s just his imagination or fear of being ridiculed. Clumsily he manages to intertwine his fingers with his headphones and pulls them out of his ears, sits up to face his savior.

There stands no other than Bucky himself, considerable but lithe muscle accentuated by the sweat clinging to his red t-shirt and hair streaked with sweat pushed back from his face. He crosses his arms and smirks like he’s amused that Steve had trouble. Prick.

Steve swivels and stands up so quickly he hits his leg on the racked barbell. There’s a long ramble of cursing that wants to escape his lips but he grits the pain through his teeth and collects himself, but with a mouth as dry as the Atacama desert he can’t mutter out a thank you and just stands there.

Bucky folds his arms, “‘ _ Thanks _ ’ is what people usually say when I save their life.”

Steve’s brain suddenly snaps back into action, like someone up there had quickly replaced a blown fuse, “Uh thanks.” He puts his hands on his hips in an attempt to seem more collected. He tries to ignore the burning sensation on and in his chest. He is definitely short of breath for some reason or another.

Bucky pokes at Steve's bicep with a soft prod, a tiny smile on his lips. Steve can feel it burn through his skin. “Looks like all this is for nothing huh?” Bucky chuckles lightly.

Steve shrugs, suddenly feeling miles away, “I’m having an off day.” That’s definitely true at least.

Bucky smirks and quirks an eyebrow, “Is that so?” he tilts his head a little. Narrows his eyes and Steve can see his chest rise and fall as the tiniest of sighs escapes him. “Anyway Rogers, I’ll see you around.” Bucky picks up his water bottle and unravels his headphones, “You have my number if you get caught in a life or death situation again.”

Bucky jogs toward the girl who looks like she could bring down an entire army on her own.

“Hey Val, wait up! ”

Steve gathers his stuff and heads home.

* * *

 

Steve and Sam arrive at Thor’s new place just outside of campus. It’s nestled in a higgly piggly street of houses. Architecturally it looks like somebody was rolling a dice on every house they built, a colonial next to something vaguely Spanish looking and Thor’s place that looked like some kind of gothic revival that they’d given a summerhouse twist. Steve wonders if they’d let the architecture school run riot here, he wouldn’t be surprised if he got to the front door and instead of a number there was a plaque that read, ‘ _ Rachel Jones, Final Year Project 2001 _ ’.

They knock on the door and nobody in the living room moves, clearly engrossed in whatever story Tony is vividly telling. Sam asks if they should knock again but before they even get the chance to do so, an exasperated looking Bruce opens the door without a word. They both follow him inside into the lounge where everyone is eating pizza and not doing much of the whole ‘moving furniture’ thing that Steve thought they came over here to do. Steve watches as Bruce returns to the chest of drawers he and Thor were lifting before he answered the door but Thor had already taken care of taking it up the stairs by himself.

Steve’s eyes skirt around the circle of folks he was quickly calling his friends. Natasha is currently curled up on a leather chair. Steve could tell it was good leather, by the way, the grain and its worn-in-the-sweet spots. Tony was lying in the crevice between two rolled rugs, tied together at both ends. Darcy and Carol are perching on a heavy duty looking desk, with thick legs and brass embellishments.

He looks around again quickly figuring out who’s missing, No Bucky or Clint. Suddenly he hears the clatter of hollow plastic next to a dark wood wardrobe. A purple bucket with a length of yarn tied to its handle was laying on its side. The bucket jiggles and jiggles until someone else other than Steve notices it. Darcy groans as she puts a slice of pepperoni pizza into the bucket. The inside of the bucket is covered in grease, so it's clear that this isn’t the first slice. Then the bucket scoots slowly up the side of the wardrobe, catching ever so often and threatening to tip. Steve’s eyes follow it to the top, where Clint is sitting with no explanation, happily removing another slice from his prize bucket.

“Why?” Steve asks to no one in particular whilst watching Clint munch happily on the pizza. He catches Natasha looking up at him, the question in her eyes too but there’s something fond hiding in her little smile.

“I have no idea” Tony sighs, not opening his eyes in his lounged position.

“Why didn’t he just toss some pizza up there and then get up?”

“We tried that” Tony gestures to the residual mess of red and orange on the floor where Clint had clearly overshot the roof of the wardrobe. “To be honest I’m appreciating the ingenuity.”

“Yeah me too actually” Steve responds whilst he and Sam cock their heads in unison as if to better understand why their friend had taken residence atop a wardrobe. If for some reason they get attacked, at least Clint has the high ground and a weapon, in the form of a singular, slightly greasy bucket.

Sam laughs, “Clint always does stuff like that-”

“Try not to get any shit on that stuff guys” Bruce interrupts whilst grabbing a slice and using his hand as a plate as he goes to take a bite.

Thor bounds into the room, full of energy despite being the only one making headway on this whole furniture moving business, “I don’t think my brother will take kindly to marinara sauce on his antique armoire.”

“Armoire? That’s so extra” Tony chirps whilst catching a string of melted cheese between his teeth.

“You’ve no idea” Darcy exchanges a look with Thor like they’re sharing in a war flashback that only the two of them could possibly comprehend.

Thor wipes a gleam of sweat with the hem of his vest. Steve can’t help but let his eyes roam carefully over Thor’s ridiculous abs. He tries to look away, he really does, but then there’s something about the dips of Thor’s triceps that reels him back in again. He obviously hadn’t got a good look at Thor in the murky lights of Friday night’s party as he’s even more handsome drenched in the golden sunlight, in fact, he looks like he was born into a puddle of the stuff.

Steve can feel Sam’s smirk bore into the back of his head and he hates that Sam knows what Steve’s face is doing even when he’s only got a look at the back of it.

“Steven, can you please help me with this?” Thor gestures to the other wardrobe in the room, the one that’s not covered in pizza grease and Clint.

Steve turns and hands Sam his backpack. He squares his shoulders and takes a large inhale and braces his core and lifts his side of the wardrobe in a strong squatting motion.

“Come on, eye of the tiger, buddy” He hears Sam chuckle as his knees lockout into place.  He wants to tell Sam to shut up but suddenly he’s met with a face full of varnished oak as Thor lifts the other side.

The staircase is narrow and Steve is worried that Thor’s shoulders wouldn’t fit in the slight gap, nevermind the piece of furniture that was slowly slipping from his grip. Thor pivots and starts making his way backwards up the stairs, muttering a chorus of ‘fucks’ as the wardrobe scrapes against the wall and Steve is met with a flurry of paint dust like toxic little snowflakes, probably filled with lead. He tips his head to the side to stop inhaling the brunt of it.

They pause for a moment midway up the stairs. Steve wants to keep going because the only thing harder than keeping going was finding the motivation to start again. Steve braces the wardrobe against his booted feet and takes a breather. Then Thor hangs his head over the banister and gives Steve a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, long strands of hair that had escaped his ponytail hung vertically from his cocked head. They push forward until they reach the landing.

Before Steve can take another step forward, he feels the weight of the oak lifted from his hands. Thor takes the wardrobe in a bear like embrace and hauls it into one of the bedrooms.

“It seems all those muscles are just for show then, huh?” Steve tries to jibe at Thor but it just turns into a familiar compliment. Thor grins back and dusts some of the flaked varnish from his person.

“Okay, so why am I really up here?” Steve exhales with force, still probably a little more out of breath than he’d ought to be. Either that or his lungs were preemptively shutting down to stop him having the conversation he’d just initiated. He could feel the same panic sensation from Friday jolt up and down his body and Thor very obviously searched for a way to delay the conversation he knew Steve had just initiated too.

“Free pizza?” he offers meekly.

Can’t argue with that one.

“Okay asides from that and I mean up  _ here _ ,” Steve presses.

“Moving the wardrobe” Thor lies, so very blatantly as if he didn’t just carry the wardrobe across the first floor like it grew legs and walked itself.

Steve wants to groan at Thor and get angry but he can’t, he thinks that it’d be like strangling a puppy with a U-lock.  _ Labrothor _ . Apparently word play was his new emotional diversion. Bisexual and a sudden wordsmith, College Steve is full of surprises.

Steve just settles for another compliment veiled as a jibe, “I just saw you move that like it weighed nothing.”

Thor grins again and Steve expects him to stall again but he doesn’t, “I wanted to check on you after the party, you seemed-”

“What?” Steve bites, panicking that the conversation he started was actually coming to fruition.

Thor sighs and sits on the still wrapped mattress on his bedroom floor. The mattress provides no leverage and Thor’s long legs are stretched out in front of him, the blond hair on his calves glinting in the stray sunlight.

“When I tried to hit on you, you seemed-” Thor pauses and taps his fingers on the plastic wrap in a scattered sonata that closely resembles Steve’s heartbeat at this moment too, “What are the words in English?”

This shocks Steve because Thor speaks in a perfect neutral American accent, but then at the same time, this doesn’t shock him at all because it’s Thor of all people. It would explain a lot actually, the freedom in his sexuality for one but mostly just his weird name.

Thor’s voice is deep and considerate, “You seemed somewhat... overwhelmed.”

Steve began to lean against the open doorway but it felt so posed and uncomfortable. The door hatch pokes awkwardly into his hip. He adjusts himself carefully, “I just was surprised you were hitting on me is all, and I felt bad that I couldn’t… reciprocate.”

Thor looks at Steve as if he’s just told him that on Tuesdays the sky turns red.

“No,” Thor says pointedly. He’s seeing straight through Steve as if he’s made of glass.

“No?” Steve almost squeaks. He wishes he could backtrack and swallow the lump of saliva collecting nervously in his throat. He wishes he could backtrack to not starting the conversation he’d thrown Thor head first into. He likes being headstrong but sometimes he wishes he could be at least a little bit brain-strong too.

Steve chooses to give up on repositioning himself in the doorway. It was weird looking down at Thor like this anyway, and the brass mechanism fitting was jabbing into his side like a sharpened throwing star.

“That’s not it. I’ve hit on enough straight guys to know what that looks like,” Thor explains as Steve plonks down on the mattress next to him, he’s clearly miscalculated the height of the floored mattress as Steve feels like he’s free fallen into a sitting position rather than choosing it. Steve doesn’t say anything in response to Thor and repositions himself as the mattress wrap crackles underneath him.

Thor then looks considerably hurt in the absence of a reply, his dark eyebrows pinching as he tumbles into what looks like his last resort line of questioning, “Did I really offend you? I didn’t think y-”

Steve waves him down like he’s trying to waft away a swarm of hornets, “No no! God Jesus no.”

Steve glances over Thor. He is built like a viking warrior, covered in thick gnarled muscle under an expanse of tanned skin. His face looks like it’s just dropped out of a cologne commercial, he looks like a Norse god that the ancient artists would pride their walls with, with his peppered blonde beard and summer’s day eyes. He’s pretty sure that Thor would top any,  _ every _ guy’s ‘if it had to be a guy’ list.

“Well?” Thor looks at him.

“That’s it” Steve sighs, hoping that his clumsy litany of non-answers was enough to placate the giant.

Thor smiles disingenuously but nods all the same. It was clear that neither of them are particularly satisfied by that conversation.

Thor clasps a hand over Steve’s shoulder and sighs, “So long as you’re okay. If you’re not, I'm always here to talk” Thor offers kindly.

Thor just wants to help and he’s at least owed an explanation as to why Steve’s awkwardly skirted around Thor’s attempts to help him. Steve began this conversation for a reason anyway, he wants to get some answers to what he’s feeling or at least have someone listen to who might understand the questions.

“Actually,” Steve drags, “I think-”

Steve exhales sharply through his mouth and focuses on the lines of Thor’s lips and he can feel the blush burn hot under the paleness of his skin by the idea that’s been brewing, “I’ve been thinking about some stuff since the party and I talked to Sam about it but I’m not sure he gets it in the same way that you would and I just need to clear my head.”

Something on Thor’s face quirks into life, before he settles down into a neutral expression, “What is it?” Thor asks but its clear by the way his eyebrows had jumped momentarily that he already knows what it is.

Steve doesn’t know what to say, the words stick on his tongue like it is made of fly paper. He has so many questions that he thought they’d escape in an avalanche from his lips,  _ ‘How did you know you were into guys? I think I’m into guys but I’ve never kissed one sober so I can’t be sure? When you hit on me did you know? Do you know now?’ _

He’s always been more of a man of actions than a man of words, “Can I try something? I give you permission to punch me if I'm overstepping.”

Steve tentatively pushes forward and places his lips against Thor’s. He moves again, leaning into Thor’s body carefully, waiting for Thor to push him away but the push never comes. Instead Thor holds still and lets Steve explore a little more. Steve opens his mouth and Thor returns the favour. He begins to lick into Thor’s mouth tentatively, he tastes like coffee and smells like honey. The feel of his bristled cheek feels good against his own. He can feel Thor’s arm locking and bracing into the mattress as Steve melts into him.

Suddenly, he’s imagining himself pressed against Bucky in the bathroom at the party and a small moan escapes from his lips.

He pulls away from Thor quickly, who’s expression was somewhere in between confused and proud.

Thoughts aligned like constellations in Steve’s head. It was as clear as a the sober day now, “Yeah, I'm into guys, I’m bi.”

“You are?” Thor questions, even though it’s clear he already suspected that from the start. He’d probably suspected it ever since Steve had turned a funny shade of magenta during the game of ‘Truth or Dare’ and would catch him staring at his lips when he thought Thor wasn’t looking. Steve could tell that Thor wanted him to tell him this on his own terms and Steve was thankful for that.

Steve grins and feels like if Sisyphus had just rolled away his stone, “Yeah I'm bi, Thor.”

“In that case, do you wanna go out?" Thor cups his own hands in his lap and looks at them, “Unless you have eyes for someone else?" He pauses for a second before tacking on, “Or if you just don’t want to, that’d be cool too.”

Steve screws his face up in confusion, “Who?”

“Bucky?” Thor cocks his head, “I saw you making eyes at each other all night.” He winks in  a way that goes a long way to being charming, “I'm not as dumb as I look.”

“No, no” Steve blurts. He thinks back to his conversation with Sam who’d said something along the same lines and something burned white hot in the pit of his stomach, “God, why do people keep saying that?”

Thor opens his mouth and before he can carry on and tell Steve something he doesn’t want to hear, Steve starts again, “I'm sorry for just kissing you, I think I've been confused for a long time.” He feels relieved but terrible that he’s used Thor as an experiment to confirm his hypothesis.

Steve focuses on the dust suspended in a mote of a sunbeam above Thor’s head, a little overwhelmed by the relief he’s feeling in this moment.

“I know what you're feeling, it's okay,” Thor says, deep and soft. There wasn’t anything in Thor’s expression that told Steve otherwise, “and it's not like I didn't enjoy it, Steve.”

A light laugh breaks free from Steve’s chest, “Thanks for being there for me.”

“Anytime and I mean that" Thor says earnestly.

He’s firm and unwavering, like a lifelong comrade that Steve can’t remember he ever met. But there he is, rock solid, warm and breathing next to Steve. He can feel his skin tingle with the weightlessness that he feels.

Steve stands up from the mattress on the floor, stretches his legs and looks down at Thor, “It’s not a no to the date by the way, it’s more of a let me get my head straight first thing, not a no.” He pockets his hands and smiles, tiny butterflies coming to life in his stomach. When Thor lets out a soft, rumbling chuckle Steve offers a hand which he takes. He pulls him up, supporting the weight of the gentle giant like it was the easiest thing in the world. Thor is upright again a good head height above Steve, beautiful and dripping in the late afternoon light. Maybe he did want to date Thor?

“We’ve just established there is nothing straight about you Steven,” Thor jibes whilst lightly elbowing Steve in the ribs.

Steve lets out a familiar groan, “You’re just as bad as Sam you know that?”

As they make their way down the stairs in heavy footsteps, the living room opens up to them again and the noise of their chattering friends fills the air. The atmosphere between Steve and Thor quickly dissipates.

Steve spots Bucky who’s in the corner, deep in conversation with Tony who’s sitting upright atop the rolled up rugs. He notices Bucky’s hair is disheveled in a way that was out of character for the crispness of his shirt and the way the cuffs peaked perfectly out of the sleeves of his leather jacket. There was a flush on his cheeks that was indistinguishable to the blush that adorned his own. Steve is acutely aware of his own dishevelment and Thor’s too.

He doesn’t notice that Sam absentmindedly follows Steve’s eyeline towards to Bucky and that he looks back towards the two giants standing on the staircase. If Sam didn’t know better he’d think it was due to the whole moving a wardrobe thing but unfortunately for Steve, Sam always knows and he unabashedly wiggles his eyebrows at Steve like he’s just dropped out of a 1950’s sitcom.

As Sam accidentally catches Bucky’s eye, Bucky follows his eyeline towards Steve. Steve can feel Bucky’s gaze linger on him, and the electricity that skirts across his skin as he does so. Steve feels like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar as Bucky gives him an almost meek smile as he looks between him and Thor.


	6. Pressed in a Book

“Hey Mom” Steve sighs into the phone, leg nervously shaking even though he’s already rehearsed what he’s going to tell her, kind of. He’s been keeping up with her over text but he hasn’t really found the time to call her over the past few weeks. She’s always working lates at the hospital and he’s always sleeping or in class during the day.

Sarah Rogers’ voice is light on the other end of the phone causing Steve’s heart to swell as if he’s just entering the house during the days before Christmas when it smells like cinnamon and pine tree. He misses home.

“It’s all good here,” Steve winces, “it’s just a lot you know?”

His brain is churning trying to figure out what to say, he knows he can tell his mom anything right now but he will in time. Right now though, Steve isn’t ready, so he settles for being non commital which should be punishable by death in Steve’s book.

When she asks about Sam, Steve laughs and shakes his head, “Yeah yeah, Sam’s good. Pain in the ass as always.” He throws a glance over to where Sam sits, legs crossed under him in his bed with the entirety of the human brain sprawled out in overpriced textbooks. He flips Steve the finger and mouths ‘ _ asshole _ ’ at him.

“Classes are fine” Steve stands up from his desk and starts making the usual ‘phone walk’ around their room. He can hear the worry in her voice when she shoots question after question at him, “Yes I’m making friends mom” Steve chuckles followed by a groan. It’s a fair assumption Steve thinks, as he’s been an insufferable little ass growing up. Sam was the only one able to tolerate little Steve with his big vocabulary and bigger heart. Steve’s rambles about justice and what is good and right was enough to drive a lesser man insane.

Steve thinks about their strange little group and began to reel them off excitedly and his mom relaxes, “Yeah I think one of them is a secret agent or mad scientist, maybe both. There’s another who may have been a Russian assassin in a previous life, oh and another who’s some kind of Nordic God. Oh and then there’s Bucky who invited us all to this big party and saved my life on the bench press...” he leaves out the part where he kissed Steve in the bathroom.

His head snaps to Sam when he’s making ridiculous kissing noises from the other side of the room. He’s not really sure if it’s in reference to Thor or to Bucky. He hasn’t told Sam about Thor yet but he’s pretty sure he knows. The way that Thor draped his thick arm around Steve and played with his hair when he thought no eyes were on them during movie night was kind of a dead giveaway. And Bucky, that is a little more complicated. 

He looks out of the window, the campus path looking ominous with it’s fog and barely functional lamps Steve frowns. His mother dealing with pots and pans on the other end before she asks about girls. “Girls? Yeah, girls go to this school” he runs a hand over his face. “Yeah Sam has his eyes on a few… dozen” he gets a pillow in the back of his head and he whirls around to jump at his friend to declare war, but Sam’s holding up a fat book and yelps like a scared child, Steve stops in his track with a breathless laugh. “What?” he sits down again. “No, haven’t got my eyes on a girl at the moment but y’know me-” he clicks his tongue.

His mother is about to dig deeper and Steve is quick to divert onto a different topic.

“How’s Grandpa?” he chimes and smiles fakely to no one in particular, feeling instantly bad. Even worse when she tells him that his Grandpa isn’t feeling all that good. “What’s wrong?” he stands up again, Sam is looking worried too, Steve’s Grandpa hasn’t been coping well with Alzheimer's. “Fuck, no I’m not going to watch my language. I’m coming home, mom.” She tries to argue with him to Steve’s frustration, “Look I’m not leaving you alone in a time like this!” he winces at the way he raises his voice, “School can wait” he mutters out and looks at Sam without giving him more information.

His mother tries to proceed to another issue, diverting topics like changing lanes in the city during holidays, just like Steve. “I can get a job when I’m back we’ll be fine!”

The phone teems with Sarah’s worried voice for some time. Steve can sense the absence of rustling from Sam as it’s clear he’s trying to listen in too. He sits down at the end of Sam’s bed, hand resting on the back of his neck as he listens to his mother’s common sense. “Okay mom you’re right.” He can still hear the demand mixed with worry in her voice, “I’ll get a job for this semester, don’t worry about me just look after yourself and Grandpa. Once I’ve got enough money I’ll come home as soon as I can, at least for the holidays. Maybe a little longer.”

She talks on for about fifteen minutes, breaking Steve’s heart when she chokes up about the hospital, that she can’t support him as much as she’d like and that the times are tough now. But she’s making him smile at how angry she gets over this country and the way they rob poor people for getting sick. He’s got the fighting spirit from her. No doubt.

“I’ll be fine. We’ve scraped by in the past. I’ll be fine, mom. I’ll set up a service where I take care of people’s bullies or something oooh or a paid vigilante superhero or something!”

She begs him not to.

“Starbucks works too?” he offers to please her and think of the coffee shop down on campus. Maybe they’ll need someone? “I love you, mom. Always.”

Sam hits him with a notebook, “Me too!”

“Sam says he loves you too! Alright, goodbye!”

*

There’s something about wind today that says winter is just around the corner, gone are the days of sticky  _ Sum-tumn _ , it was deep into Autumn now. The wind goes right through Steve and leaves him with the ‘oh fuck, I should get a new coat that I can’t afford feeling’. Steve’s pocketing his hands into his old denim jacket that has  all the colors of the rainbow stained on it. He’s cursing himself for not at least bringing a scarf before walking over to Tony’s and Bruce’s house. When he gets to the front of it he can’t help but let out a big sigh of how expensive and modern it looks compared to Thor’s place that he’s been visiting a lot recently. It looks cold, sterile and basically looks like a laboratory even from the outside. It even has a fancy swooping arch that leaves Steve with sympathy for the constructors. They probably lost their arguments as to why it couldn’t be doable but as per usual, Tony doesn’t lose.

Bruce opens the door when Steve rings the doorbell. Jarvis is chattering something about how rude Banner is and that he would have opened the door for Mr. Rogers.

“Don’t listen to him” Bruce says and rolls his eyes. “Welcome, to-”

“Steve! Welcome to my palace!” Tony comes up behind Banner, a big smile plastered to his face. “Jarvis usually opens the door.”

“I was expecting him, Tony” Bruce sends a hostile look towards his friend. “This time he’s here to talk to me. Leave us alone.” 

Bucky steps behind Tony in the door frame, a towel slung around his hips and another buried in the mess of his damp, dark hair.“Tony, next time you need me to help in the lab tell me if you think i’ll need to bring a change of clothes, just be like ‘hey Buck there’s highly disgusting liquid today that will turn fabric to ash if it gets on your clothes’, y’know something simple like that.” he holds up the item he was drying his hair with. It turns out to be a gaudy yet faded print of one of Tony's ironic band t-shirts. “I can’t be seen dead wearing a Duran Duran t-shirt!”

Tony swung around to face Bucky, who seemed to have still not registered Steve's open mouthed presence, “You just knocked that over that was nothing to do with me or why I even asked you to help in the first place,” he clicks his tongue and throws a pointed finger Bucky's way  “And that's your t-shirt now buddy, own it!”

Bucky finally catches Steve's eye and with a quietly startled jolt, holds the knot on his hip even tighter,“Oh hey Steve”

“Hey Buck,” Steve mumbles in the most polite way possible, trying to keep his eyes at Bucky's rather than at his chest, which he thought had been filling out nicely with lean muscle. Not that he'd been looking enough to know what to compare it too. 

Bucky gestures to Steve's paint tattered denim, “You look like you’ve been attacked by toddlers”

“You look,” Steve starts as he watches Bucky shift his weight from one foot to another. 

Tony clicks repeatedly,“Keep your eyes in your head big boy, he’s only a baby!"

“I’m actually two years older than Steve," Bucky chimes whilst smirking at Steve who'd been clearly growing more uncomfortable as the seconds passed. 

Tony turns to Bucky and raises his brows. “Are you?” he shakes his head, “Actually, I don’t care I should be doing something that’s not a waste of my time.”

He paces out of the door-way and Bucky nods and smiles and pads after Tony in the vast hallway. 

“Tony's in a mood” Bruce explains and grabs his coat, he pulls it over his person quickly and haphazardly, narrowly meeting the arm hole with his splayed out hand, “Let’s just go down to the coffee shop right now.”

Steve high tails after Bruce, pulling his jacket across his chest in an effort to stave off the cold, “Why is he in a mood?” he queries, wondering if he really wants to know the answer to the question.

Bruce sighs and turns towards Steve, his nose growing pinker in the late afternoon wind, “Do you know much about quantum computing?”

Steve lets out a confused laugh and waves Bruce down, “Forget I asked. So, how long have you known Bucky, uh and Tony"

“Well me and Tony go way back, we went to this fancy school for the gifted that Tony’s Dad owned and Tony kinda latched on to me and Tony and Bucky, well they’re like brothers so they were kind of a package deal.” He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words for Steve. “Bucky and his sister have stayed with us a few times over the years, especially when everything was going to shit with their parents. And Tony, Tony is just very protective of his 20 year old son sometimes.”

Steve smiles and nods because for some reason it felt like the right thing to do, “Oh, that makes sense. Wait fancy school for the gifted? Why are you guys at this school then?” 

Bruce laughs deep and throaty, “ We’re not, we’re at MIT but Tony prefers the girls that go here, so our house is here.”

“Of course”

“Buck’s a good guy, he doesn’t… quite know his place in the world yet”

They continue walking towards the coffee shop and Steve’s never really seen Bruce smile or be excited, he’s mostly just flustered and focused on Tony not burning something down or blowing something up. It isn’t until now that he’s excitedly telling him about his senior project and that he misses home but he likes being at college even more. Steve doesn’t have to say much until Bruce stops talking, it’s inspiring actually, watching someone’s face light up like a halogen lamp when they’re talking about something they love.

“I overshare don’t I?” he asks and Steve thinks it might be a joke but Bruce legitimately looks a bit worried. “Just tell me if I do.”

“No!” Steve replies, hands waving and all, “I’ve actually never heard you talk this much. It’s nice.” It really is nice.

“Oh, ok good!” he smiles white teeth flashing followed by soft chuckle.

They come to the centre of the campus and arrive at the coffee shop. There is reddening ivy adorning the front of the building, it’s neat tangles laid thick and lush, even in mid October. It snakes over the nooks of the old brick and flirts with hanging in doorways perhaps caressing a particularly tall student’s head. Bruce pushes open the glass door on the front of the building, embellished with the name of the place, ‘The Split Bean’. Apparently it was a pun on campus, when it got to exam time everyone would call their study headaches ‘Split Beans’. Tony once told Steve there was a cocktail named after it in the local bars, the cheapest beer mixed with the cheapest vodka, apparently it’s designed to taste like poverty and regret. Students are weird.

Bruce nods to the barista once they are in the warm little cafe, with bookshelves climbing up walls and plants sprouting from every surface.

He turns to Steve, “So, Cameron said you can basically just start the job whenever.”

Steve stops in his tracks and frowns and looks over to Cameron, the manager over Bruce’s shoulder, “I don’t have to do an interview?”

Bruce shakes his head, no. “Nobody has shown interest in it.”

“But I think I should at least show them I’m somehow qualified and that I’m not some creep…” he stops and thinks, “Can at least make something?”

“You’re too good, Steve” Bruce says as if he can’t believe it. “Tony needs to absorb of your humbleness, but sure. If you can make me a mean dry cappuccino, the job is yours.”

Steve reaches out his hand, “Deal.”


	7. Honey Hi

Steve’s had his job for about a month now. November is coming to an end and December is just around the corner with exams and the usual holiday rush of gift shopping, home visiting and last hand-in’s for projects. Steve finished up a painting last night that he’s going to hand in on Wednesday but he’s not happy with it. He doesn’t know what he could’ve done better or if he could’ve done better at all. He thinks back to the indigo painting with silver, pinks and blues splattered across it, there’s swirls of oils, a face hidden beneath it all and he prays that no one will ask him who it is. He might just be a Queen fan, but he doesn’t want to explain that to his professor.

Sam snaps his fingers in front of Steve’s face, “We’re all here because it’s so easy to take advantage of you, Rogers. You’re not even paying attention man.” Sam snorts and sips his hot chocolate while trying to sneak a peek at the sketchbook in Steve’s hands. Steve snaps it away quickly, the book almost slides off the counter. “Is that Nat?” Steve blushes because no, it’s not Natasha but Sam gapes as if Steve suddenly getting a crush on the redhead sitting between Thor and Bruce painting in her own little sketchbook.

“It’s not Nat!” Steve hisses while pressing his sketchbook to his chest, hiding his artwork. “It’s Thor” he whispers and feel another blush creep up on him.

“I would know the difference between Thor and Nat. Lemme see!” Sam pushes with a grin and grabby hands. Steve snaps it away again and looks over to Thor, a lump forms in his throat.

Steve rolls his eyes and puts the sketchbook away, stuffs it under the counter next to his bag, puts the pencil behind his ear and goes to take the next order from the stressed out looking student coming into the coffee shop. She hands over a singular dollar, only enough for a black filter coffee, she knows what she's  about and he respects that.

Steve hands over the coffee and the girl walks away, muttering to herself and sipping the blazing coffee. He leans on the counter, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches his group of friends chatting away about different topics. Even Tony’s there, chatting about nanobots to Clint who pretends he’s interested. Nat is giving him sympathetic looks whenever she’s not engrossed in her watercolors. Thor’s talking over her head to Bruce about time and space and Steve finds himself feeling incredibly content.

Outside, the first snow has started to fall. Covering the ground in a blanket of dusty white and leaving the moment magical and for the first time, in a fleeting moment, since coming to college, Steve feels as if he’s landed on his feet. That is until he sees the prick from last month walking past the shop, having the nerve to flip Steve off.

Steve notices in the corner of his eye that Sam’s tensing up, “Isn’t that the guy that shouted-” he winces and lowers his voice, “-‘faggot’ to some poor kid?”

“What?” Natasha says as she’s walking up to them, empty cup in her hands and a look on her face asking for more. “I just want chai tea this time, Steve” she smiles saccharine before catching up with the conversation. “Who yelled that at who?”

As if Bucky was summoned by the topic, he’s walking through the door with snow on his leather jacket’s shoulders and a guitar on his back...

“Is that a bun?” Steve questions out loud and everyone turns to look at Bucky. He laughs again and begins stooping Natasha's tea.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam laughs, mirroring Steve.

Bucky narrows his eyes and looks between the best friends. He bundles his arms together and stifles a petulant huff before going after Steve's unruly locks, “Shut up, it was getting long and by the looks of it so is yours, Rogers. It would be unhygienic not to put it up in a band” Bucky winks and Nat rolls her eyes.

Bucky pulls the guitar off his back and puts it by the occupied table.

“Answer the question, guys!” Nat barks and makes dagger eyes to the tea Steve’s slowly been making for her.

“What question?” Bucky looks at Steve.

Steve pushes his hair back and rolls his eyes at Bucky and pushes lightly at his shoulder when he comes close enough to the counter. “The guy from last month, the homophobic asshole” Steve shrugs, still saddened by the incident. It shouldn’t be that hard to keep one’s opinions to themselves as not to hurt anyone, no it shouldn’t be coming as a shock or disgust to someone that people in this day and age are gay. Steve is still not entirely comfortable with his own sexuality and knowing that there are assholes out and about is also making it just that tiny bit harder to hold Thor’s hand or kiss out in public. Not because he’s ashamed, but he’s scared and angry too. He should probably stand up for himself sometime soon too and not just everyone else.

“So, this fucking asshole comes in and there’s this couple just talking between themselves, real quiet,  and one of them pecks the other guy on the cheek and they kiss for like a second” Bucky starts and Natasha listens to him intently, brows furrowed, “and the guy walks up to them and starts calling them names. Steve and I were just chatting and I thought Rogers got possessed or something because he just storms off to the scene where shit is hitting the fan, right? And then he grabs the asshole by the neck and tells him to join him outside.”

Nat turns to Steve, her lips hanging open in shock, “What?”

The rest of the table leans in further and echo Natasha's disbelief. Sure they'd thought about Steve’s just crusades in theory but they'd never actually experienced any of it first hand, or even second hand.

“It wasn’t like that…” he blushes, his hair falling in his face and he looks at the ground.

“No, it was like that!” Bucky nods enthusiastically to Steve’s embarrassment, “And then Steve drags him outside, tries to talk to him but before we know it the guy tries to punch Steve but this guy,” Bucky squeezes Steve bicep and bites his bottom lip followed by a emphasizing grunt, “he’s made out of rock, so the punch just made Steve a little more angry and he pushed the guy and told him to fuck off and that if he ever came back here, he’d report him and have him banned from campus and possibly kill him.”

Bucky looks over at Steve, bright and fond. He's clearly enamored by the whole incident, like Steve had wrangled a three headed lion right in front of him. He gives Steve an easy smile with his bowed lips and Steve reciprocates it with enthusiasm. He can feel the creases around Bucky's eyes carving themselves into his memory.

“Steve, what?” Nat gapes and blinks.

“Buck…” Steve moans as he hides his face in the palms of his coffee smelling hands.

“It was like that!” Bucky insists. “I told the guy there was no point fighting Captain America over here.” Bucky clasps his hand over Steve's shoulder and squeezes triumphantly.

“God, I hate men” Nat groans and grabs her tea from the counter.

“What?” Clint pipes up, pressing a finger to his ear and wincing a little.

“Not you, babe!” Nat calls out and walks over to her boyfriend.

Steve looks at Bucky who’s sitting on the counter now, smug smile on his face before they both crack into a small fit of knowing giggles.

“You sure know how to make a story sound way more interesting than it really was” Steve wipes his hands on the apron and shakes his head. He looks at Bucky who’s picking at a small chip in the counter, his lips turned up in a lopsided smile, there’s a few strands of hair covering his face and Steve feels-

“You helped those guys out and I heard you…”

Steve interrupts Bucky, “You did?” he breathes, frowning at his own breathlessness.

Bucky nods sharply and enthusiastically still picking at the chip, “I think everyone heard your little speech about what you do to homophobic fuckers like him. Didn’t know you could curse like that, Rogers” he turns his gaze and attention to Steve, blue eyes clear with adornment and Steve feels like he’s being hit by a trains of all kinds of emotions he can’t place.

“I curse a lot when I’m angry” Steve mutters, clears his throat and goes to the take the dishes of the bench. “He was being an asshole, in my coffee shop and I’m not having that.”

“Glad we got guys like you around” Bucky says, face soft and sincere. “Sure wish I had that in high school.”

Steve stops in his tracks for a second, the heartfelt confession causing everything in Steve’s mind to just focus on Bucky. He can't fathom a reason why Bucky would have been picked on in highschool with his beautiful face and sharp wit. He looks all over Bucky's face, it's soft and bashful and with eyes that avoid Steve's.

“Why would you have needed that?” Steve asks out of curiosity and Bucky looks over at Tony.

“Well, I got bullied a lot for a lot of things. Mostly just uh…” he stops and frowns, “things here and there about what people thought of me. Got a bit physical, a few bruises here and there.”

Steve looks over at Tony, “He in on it?” he nods towards Stark. He can unfortunately picture Stark as a bully, it breaks his heart that it’s almost too easy.

“No!” Bucky is quick to save his friend. “Tony was one of the first friends I had, our dad's have always worked together so we were forced into hanging out”

“Unfortunately,” Tony groans, clearly having overheard parts of the conversation.

Steve can't really tell if he's being serious or not. Steve then lets out a breath and swallows, relieved. “Good” he says to Bucky.

“Yeah, he’s not all that bad” Bucky punches Tony in the shoulder playfully.

“Hey, asshole!” Tony yells when he’s reaches his chair again. “You writing your next ballad about Steve’s terrible coffee and how much you love him?” he chuckles to himself but Thor pinches his thigh and Bruce is throwing a pencil at his head while Nat is cursing out loud in Russian.

“I take it back, he’s all bad” Bucky groans and Steve makes him a cup of coffee.

*****

It’s the last day in November when Bucky comes into the shop alone, a thick merino wool scarf wrapped around his neck so high that the tip of his nose brushed against it. His nose is bright red and his eyes are even brighter. The sunlight streams in from the large glass front, the remaining ivy, now in shades of red, hanging around the edges of the window and reminds Steve why the fall is so wonderful.

Bucky unwraps his face from the scarf like he’s a mummy and pulls the hat from his head causing it to stick up in an uncharacteristic way. His cheeks flush and he’s completely and endearingly disheveled from the cold, Steve can’t help but smile. Bucky had began to ditch the sharpness of his usual clothes for thick knits in jewel tones. Today a he wore a forest green sweater under his still extremely expensive looking pea coat.

Steve nodded at Bucky as he finished up the flat white he’d been working on, “Oh hey, Buck! The usual?”

Bucky tries to flatten down his hair but misses a few stray dark strands, “Yeah.”

He looks in the mirrored back of the coffee machine at his bedraggled appearance, Steve peers over the top and turns the milk wand on. It whistles like a train, causing Bucky to jump out of his skin. Steve shouldn’t have done it, but he can’t help himself when it comes to Bucky. 

Steve laughs as Bucky scowls at him whilst clutching his heart.

Steve tries to contain himself again as he asks, “How’s it going today? You managed to get Tony move his Christmas party?”

Bucky takes a couple of collecting breaths and responds, “I’m in the process. The key with Tony is that you gotta convince him he came up with the idea or he won’t do it.”

Steve tamps the ground coffee and shakes his head, “Jesus, you’d never get anything done that way.” He plugs it into the machine and begins to pull the shot. The roast is dark and the espresso fills the room with notes of chocolate.

“Look it may work for you, blasting in there guns blazing,” Bucky responds as he leans over the counter to get a look at what Steve is doing, as if he hasn’t seen it a thousand times before.

Steve removes and knocks the coffee into the bang box and cleans the grounds with his cloth, he pauses clearly pondering Bucky’s statement, “Maybe not blazing, warm maybe.”

He can’t tell if he’s right or not, he’s never really been one for subtlety.

Bucky raises his eyebrows and laughs over the sounds of Steve steaming the milk, “You’re exactly the same though, stubborn as fuck.” He pauses, “I hope you two never get into an argument”.

Steve wants to feign being shocked at that accusation but with a second thought, Bucky is completely right. Bucky’s a strangely good judge of character when it comes to Steve. They haven’t really spent that much time together alone, but for some reason Bucky seems to know Steve as well as Steve knows himself.

He isn’t going to give Bucky the satisfaction though, “I just don’t think there’s any evidence to support that buddy.”

Bucky tightens his eyebrows and cocks his head as if he’s a dog trying to figure out what the strange buzzing sound from the other side of the room is. Steve can see Bucky’s screwed up face in the reflection of the milk jug as he carefully pours it into Bucky’s takeaway cup.

The cup is glass with a purple grip strip, it’s supposed to live with Bucky but it doesn’t. It lives in the coffee shop with Steve ready for it’s next outing. It used to annoy Steve, sitting under the counter, creating clutter that didn’t need to be there. After a while it didn’t. He’d become protective over it and shielded it from Gregg’s clumsy cleaning. It has a spot on the shelf now and only comes out when Bucky is there and is returned by either Steve or Bucky, when it’s late and Bucky insists on helping him wash up. Sometimes, when Bucky actually uses it as a to go cup, he can feel it’s absence. When it’s not warming Bucky’s hands as he talks to his friends, having a mound of sugar swirled within it or sat safely on Steve’s shelf, he misses that stripe of purple rubber.

Steve hands the coffee over to Bucky who takes a hesitant sip and tries to smile through the bitterness. Steve thinks Bucky is trying to be slick by hiding all the sugar he dumps in when he thinks Steve isn’t looking.

“I came in here for a reason other than the shitty coffee,” Bucky announces and places the cup on the stainless steel countertop.

“You can get it yourself next time then” scoffs Steve, playfully.

Bucky looks taken aback. “No no,” he protests with a smile, “The beans are all burnt, it’s not your fault. The milk is really good.”

Steve agrees, the beans are terrible. He’s been trying to get management to change them for months. He’s always met with the same, ‘these are the ones we’ve always bought’ and he keeps trying to tell them that the same doesn’t always equal the best. He thought about just taking the chance and just ordering some Colombian light roast on the company account but he’s pretty sure that’s stealing, plus he wouldn’t know what to do with 80lbs of coffee beans if management refused to sell it. 

Suddenly, his brain catches up with the other side of the complement and like he hasn’t heard it a thousand times from a thousand different people, Steve turns a light shade of magenta whilst he mutters out, “Oh okay thanks,” in Bucky’s general direction.

Bucky leans forward deeper onto the counter, if Steve didn’t know better he’d think that Bucky is trying to either cop a feel of Steve’s ass or one of the pecan plaits on the back of the counter.

He places his chin on his knuckle and looks up at Steve and blinks like his blood is made from sugar syrup. Apparently Bucky’s really got a knack for the smirk and doe eyes trick, “So, I was wondering if you could please rent this place out to me for a few hours for an open mic night at the end of the month or something, gotta practice in front of crowds.”

Steve can feel himself almost screaming yes before Bucky’s even finished his sentence, apparently whatever Bucky was doing was really working for him, Bucky’s reputation for a charmer certainly wasn’t preceding him. Bucky smirks as he can see Steve watching every muscle movement on his face, “We can sell tickets and then donate it to the gym for all the bars you bent.” Did they say charming? Must be a different James Barnes.

Steve groans half heartedly, “Look, I’m still recovering from that bruise,” he can feel a half smile grow on his face and he desperately tries to stifle it, but the playful smirk on Bucky’s own face made it terribly hard, “But yeah that’s a good idea, we can donate the money to something decent.”

Bucky swipes a few packets of sugar and stuffs them into his coat pocket and grins at Steve brightly and fully, “Goo- great, well I’ve gotta get to class now.” He mummifies himself again with the scarf.

“Wait,” escapes Steve’s lips. He has no idea why he sounds so desperate, perhaps he’ll invest in some superglue to stop himself next time, “Are you free at around 10, I get off then, we could get some ideas together?”

Bucky turns around and shrugs, “People bring their guitars and sing their shitty songs, there’s not much to it.”

Steve is taken aback by the sarcasm but he shouldn’t be. It feels like he’s searching for meaning in everything Bucky says.

Bucky rolls his eyes and sighs, “I’m joking, I’ll be here then.” That familiar bright smile peaks over the top of the scarf. Before Steve can respond again he’s out of the door.

* * *

 

The rest of Steve’s shift passes by with minimal hiccups. Nothing terrible ever happens in the coffee shop even on the later shifts, it’s mostly just filled with strange stressed out students. The atmosphere just before closing time is like entering another dimension. When Steve starts to close up there’s always two stragglers that turn up like ghosts in the mist as he starts to wipe down the surfaces. He likes to imagine if Mothman and The Loch Ness Monster decided to pursue a history degree, wear exclusively pjs and survive on coffee and sheer adrenaline alone, this is what they’d be like. He says goodbye to the cryptids and waves the girl off, who just looks at him wide eyed. He’s pretty sure that if she was to say anything other than, ‘black coffee’ it would formulate in a series of screeches and clicks.

As they disseminate into the night Steve’s phone buzzes, it’s Bucky.

_ Hey, something came up. Raincheck? _


	8. He Woke Me Up Again

There’s something about the silence in the library. It’s never really silent, it’s still got undertones of a beehive, a buzzing of students whispering to each other, the shuffle of books and papers or someone cursing out loud for not having saved before their computer dies unexpectedly. 

Steve’s currently practicing some sketching techniques while he’s listening to Queen’s Platinum Collection. He knows it from back to front and is immediately transported to long car rides as a kid as soon as he hits the first track. As of late, his sketchbooks are filled with strangers’ heads and a various of different window sceneries. Mostly, it’s Thor’s face and different body parts like his hands, nose and eyes. He also practices drawing his arms, a lot.

“What are you drawing today?” Thor interrupts _Under Pressure_ and causes Steve to nearly jump out of skin. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” Thor apologizes with an amused chuckle and is quick to sit down next to Steve in the weird wooden clad bubble shaped chair.

Steve grabs Thor’s knee and gives it an affectionate squeeze, “It’s fine, I was just too engrossed in Freddie.”

“Who in their right mind wouldn’t be!” Thor beams and pulls out a book from his messenger bag before he takes a quick look at Steve’s sketch of the oak tree outside the library window. “That’s really pretty.”

“You think this oak tree is pretty?” Steve points a finger at himself and grins wide. He quickly looks around before he leans towards Thor. He knows that Thor wasn’t actually commenting on how much he likes Steve but that the oak tree in his book is actually not that bad.

“You know I think so” Thor winks and quickly presses a kiss to Steve’s lips. “But you know I like your art, Steven. That’s not a secret.” Thor leans back into his chair, his smile turning into a small sad one that hits Steve with all kinds of thoughts.

He likes Thor a lot, finds him endearing and kind in all the right ways and Steve wonders if this is what love is supposed to feel like? All he’s ever read about or heard about is how the heart is supposed to swell with affection, how you can’t sleep without the other and that life just isn’t the same without them. He thought he’d been in love with Peggy but it didn’t feel at all like any of that, being with Thor is amazing but in some ways, he’s worried that all he feels when he’s around Thor, is happy. He swallows and looks down into his sketchbook again, settles his back against the chair and thinks nothing more of it.

They sit in their silence, Thor reading his book about astrophysics and Steve’s sketching Thor’s profile for what probably is the hundredth time.

He breaks the silence by groaning while stretching his legs out. His brain goes from being filled with ways to continue his sketch to every single thing that’s happened in the last week. He thinks about the open mic night and Bucky. So he says, “Bucky wants to set up an open mic night at the shop.”

Thor puts in his bookmark and peeks over the frames of his reading glasses, blue eyes curious, “That sound cool. When’s this happening?”

Steve frowns and thinks back to Bucky’s message from yesterday. “No idea, we were supposed to figure it out last night but he bailed.” Thor puts down his book from hearing the sadness in Steve’s voice and Steve hates it and clears his throat so it sounds more uncaring, neutral, “Go figure, huh?” He fails.

“Are you certain that you can set permission for it?” Thor asks.

Steve’s basically the captain of The Split Bean, he’s made a few decisions here and there and never got a single complaint about it. Asides from the whole bean issue, but that's a work in progress, “I believe in asking, worst I can get is a no. But who says no to a good cause?”

Thor nods and gives somewhat of a smile. Steve feels like he’s been bothering Thor as of late. He likes the library and he enjoys the quiet but the art programme finishes before all the other classes at the university. So for some reason he still finds himself in the library on most days, watching Thor as he studies for his exams. He sketches and helps Thor study to pass the time. Sometimes Sam is there too and Thor helps him with the chemistry section of his modules. Thor’s a junior and is studying for a set of finals that are probably worth more than the entity of Steve’s first year. He feels like he annoys Thor with his constant presence in the library and he’s just too kind to say otherwise.

Maybe it isn’t just the quiet that Steve likes. He also likes the memory of Thor pinning him to the cellular biology section of one of the secluded bookcases and kissing a neat line across Steve’s jaw. Chaste nips to Steve’s ear lobes, deep kisses and Thor’s steady hand curled around his waist, all as unsuspecting students studied around them was enough for Steve to drag Thor back to his dorm room as quickly as humanly possible.

That was when Sam found out for sure. He didn’t care much. He only wanted tell Tony because apparently now Tony owed him $5. Steve said something about him having the home field advantage, before Sam exited the room swiftly whilst giving Steve two thumbs up. Then Thor had Steve tackled to his bed and it wasn’t long until both of their clothes were strewn all over the green carpet of the room while the setting sun shone like honey through the window. There was a fullness to how he felt afterwards, curled around Thor in the too small twin bed. Like he finally understood who he is.

He doesn’t feel that fullness anymore and he’s back to wondering.

Steve stands up quickly almost knocking his head on the top of the ridiculous bubble chair, “I’m gonna go fill up my water bottle.”

Thor looks up at and grins somewhat slyly. Steve panics for a second, thinking that maybe Thor had heard all his thoughts, or maybe he’d just been saying it all out loud. Maybe the whole library just heard about how him and Thor had fucked on his dorm room bed. He imagines someone taking one look at Thor and someone clasping a hand over his shoulder and saying “Well done mate”, a couple of girls cheering in the corner and another guy is cocking his head trying to figure out who was on top.

Thor picks up his water bottle and the slyness in his smile intensifies. Oh, this makes more sense than the crazy thoughts in Steve’s head. He grabs it from Thor and begins to walk away.

He gets to the water fountain and his mind is carefully blank. He focus on filling up the bottles without wasting a drop. He probably looks insane to any passerby right now, precariously holding Thor’s metal bottle like his entire existence would collapse if he didn’t. He can feel the tension mount inside his mind as the bottle fills and quickly replaces it with his own bottle to start the delicate balancing act again. The sound of the water hitting the thick plastic grows from a hollow rumble to a high pitched whistle as the air in the bottle decimates. He carefully screws the lids in place.

Without any insane task left, his mind opens like a floodgate. Maybe he and Thor weren’t right together after all? Despite knowing this might be true, it’s a thought he is happy to ignore and run from. He doesn’t know what else to do with it.

He arrives back at the table with the two full bottles and a mind full of uncomfortable whispers and Thor is gone. He feels like he’s got to say something to him, at least to put his own selfish mind at ease. He looks around and pokes his head into various aisles. Thor’s usual haunt of the science of collapsing Neutron Stars section is empty asides from a girl who is eating a packet of chips hidden in her head scarf and flicking through a book thicker than one of Steve’s biceps. He checks another few aisles until he can hear Thor’s low chuckle emanating from the cellular biology section.

Val, the girl who looks like she could fight a titan and win is standing talking to Thor. Her eyebrows are furrowed and she looks in deep disagreement with something Thor has said, but she still can’t help but giggle back when Thor makes a joke about the subject matter that goes completely over Steve’s head. Val jibes back with something far more complicated than Steve could fathom, they’re suddenly laughing and jibing together in hushed tones in a place that felt so sacred yet so suddenly unearned in his attachment.

Val looks up and notices with her large brown eyes, still quivering from Thor’s latest pun, “Hey, big guy!” she greets.

Steve nods, “Hey, Val.”

“You know each other?” Thor asks while looking between them both.

Steve moves a little closer to the two of them and inspects the spine of one the books on the shelf as if it would give himself a tougher one, “Yeah, we train together sometimes.”

Val looks up at Thor and holds back a smirk, “I’m way stronger than Steve here, those are all glamour muscles.” There’s something about the smirk and the way the words fall strained from her lips, like in her mind she’s focusing on something else entirely. It’s like Thor can read the annotations in her voice because the way he’s looking at her is saying something that he wouldn’t begin to utter.

The worst part is the absence of any feeling on the matter on Steve’s part. Suddenly his phone buzzes in his pocket, he checks it and he’s grateful for the distraction.

_Bucky: Hey, sorry again for bailing. Are you willing to open the shop a couple of hours early on Sunday so we can go over the plan that I know you’ve already made? I can test out the acoustics and I’ll bring breakfast?_

_Steve: There’s a $15 minimum on breakfast if you’re making me get up early on a Sunday._

_Bucky: Sooo, it’s a yes?_

_Steve: It’s a yes._

“I got to go” Steve smiles at Thor and the urge to kiss him is strong but he refrains from it. The feeling in his spiteful instead of loving and it worries him. “See you” he nods at them both and gathers his stuff.

“Where are you going?” Thor asks, a little confused.

Thor knows that Steve prefers to study in the library so lying to him that he focuses better in his own room wouldn’t pass. “I… I just got to figure out something” falls from his lips and collects his pencils. “I’ll call you later.”

“Steve?” Thor sounds wary, like he’s treading carefully. 

Steve’s mind is a minefield and he’s afraid that Thor sees right through him and that if he steps, pulls or pushes the right button, Steve will ruin everything. He sighs and closes his eyes before he turns and meets the worried look that Thor has on his face. “We’ll talk later” he smiles and is quick to press a kiss against Thor’s cheek before he rushes out of the library and heads back to his room.

 

*

 

Classes go by fast when it’s getting closer and closer to the holidays. It’s Friday again and Steve feels like he’s just passing in a blur with all the stress and work he’s got to do at college, at work and he has this worry rooting inside of him when it comes to his mother and grandpa. Everyone is stressing about paint, ripped canvases and expired art supplies that doesn’t do their project justice when it’s a ‘at the end of the year’ project.

Steve’s got to choose between two paintings that he’s just finished. One of them feels to private but then he takes one look at the other and thinks the same about that one. He doesn’t really know what to do.

Natasha walks up to him when he’s about to wrap them up in the kraft paper lying scattered around him. “Have you chosen the one?” she asks and Steve turns his head so fast he’s sure he pulled a muscle.

“Huh?” he asks, eyes wide.

“The painting?” she points the the two canvases in front of him. “Which one?”

Steve makes a sound, a mixture of a sigh and a nervous chuckle. “I’m not sure yet” he says as she peeks at them both.

“Is that-?” she turns to look at him with a sly smile.

Steve blushes.  
  
“Does Thor know?” she narrows her eyes and looks at the painting again.

“No.” _Don’t tell him,_ he wants to say.

“I’m not gonna tell” she winks and puts a hand on his arm. “It’s good. I think you should hand in that one.”

“Yeah?” he unwraps it and looks at the greys, the blues and the black.

“It’s like someone else but our professors will see it. They won’t exhibit it without permission” she reassures and takes a look at the painting portraying the sketch of the oak tree. “This one doesn’t really have much emotion. But the other? You have to hand that one in.”

He agrees, but he’s still unsure. “It’s kind of personal.”

“Isn’t everything?” she nudges his arm. “If you don’t pick that one, I’ll tell him.”

“Nat…” Steve whines. “Come on.”

She gives him a look and pulls out her phone, he tries to slap it away multiple times but she’s too quick and when he grabs a hold of her wrists she does a move which suddenly he ends up being the one having his hands pinned behind his back and she got him surrendering with; “Fine, fine! I’ll do it!”

“Promise?” she asks and when he nods, she lets him go.

He takes one more look at his painting and feels a weird excitement brewing in the pit of his gut. It’s like she ran the ballot and Steve’s yelling bingo.

“Yeah. Like you said it’s not like it’ll hang in the hallway.”

“You should tell him.”

He grimaces, “We’ll see. One thing at a time, Romanoff.”

“Men…” she rolls her eyes and walks off.

Steve can’t help but think the same as he wraps up the grey eyes staring back at him.

 

*

 

Saturday is slow, painfully slow, the time slugs by like a fish swimming through treacle. Steve feels drained of energy and all he wants is to sit around in his sweatpants and his favorite sweater that is three sizes too big on him. He’s always found clothes too big for him comforting, even though now he’s had to start buying them in speciality stores.

Sam won’t have it.

“Help me study!” he hands Steve a handful of flashcards and shakes his head. “Can’t believe you” he sighs and sits down on his bed, legs crossed and clearly expecting Steve to come over and sit down with him. He pats the opposite end and raises his brows as if to tell Steve ‘come here’. They’ve helped each other study for years, Steve’s sure that he’s gonna know enough to do a Psychology degree too. It’s a good job Psychology is interesting, if Sam had taken something like Chemical Engineering? Steve would have never forgiven him.

“I’ve literally been busy every single day, Sam!” Steve riles up and looks at his friend fully offended. “I’m not a dog.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and Sam peers up at his friend from his position on the bed, “You ain’t foolin’ nobody, Rogers. You’re a dog and you know it.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh! Language,” Sam retorts laughing as he flicks through the brightly colored notecards.

Steve flips him off but plonks onto the bed opposite Sam and looks at the bright pink card on the top of the pile, he stares hard at Sam’s chicken scratch handwriting, “Uh, the functions of the prefrontal cortex?”

“Easy!” Sam says cockily and grins, “Executive function, planning, problem solving, working memory. All that jazz” he gestures carelessly with his hands and Steve wonders if Sam even needs this. He leans forward, “It’s one of the last areas of the brain to develop, that explains why you were such an ass when we were teenagers.”

Steve flips over the card to check the answer, “Okay, yeah that’s right” Steve shrugs.

The careless act causes Sam to look at him like, _‘You’re agreeing with me on this?’_

“The question, you got the functions correct” Steve sighs and picks up the next card but he spaces out for a second before he actually asks the question, “Okay the hypothalamus?”

“Oh you’re really giving me the ea-”

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he takes a big sigh and feels the words hitchhike with his exhale, “I’m gonna break up with Thor” he says rushed and swallows, “Well not break up, we were never really dating” he shrugs and can’t look at Sam, “Y’know, just end things.”

There’s a beat, a deafening silence that only lasts for a couple of seconds but Steve’s hands are already sweaty and his heart is pounding in his chest. Saying it out loud feels good but he’s sad that he feels this way and that things doesn’t seem to work out the way he wants. Hell, he doesn’t really know what he wants-

“Thor’s great though” Sam says and Steve looks up from his hands where he’s messed up the corner of the card.

“He _is,_ ” he drags and looks away again, “But there’s no spark, I feel we’re kinda too similar” Steve mutters feeling his heart sink the more he thinks about not being with Thor but it merges into the fear that they might not even be friends anymore, which is the worst part.

Sam looks dumbfounded, mouth hanging open with no words seeming to find their way out.

“Okay, so like when we were kids I needed you to balance my, uh, _lack of prefrontal cortex_ ,” Steve explains and Sam cocks a brow. “Y’know _at least try_ and talk me down from taking on a guy twice my size.”

Sam nods in familiarity with a chuckle.

“Well, Thor he kinda just does the same as me. He’s a great training partner and friend and he’s hot, _fuck me is he hot_ , but he’s not gonna be right as my boyfriend.” Steve just realizes that it’s the first time he’s said the ‘b word’ to anyone out loud and blushes. “His idiocy matches my idiocy. There’s no balance at all.”

Again there’s silence but Sam breaks it by telling Steve that if that’s the way he feels then he’s doing the right thing by breaking it off. “I’m glad you told me. It’s becoming harder and harder to see when shit’s bugging you and I don’t like it” Sam kicks Steve foot with his. “Anything else?” he adds and Steve shakes his head no.

As of now, he doesn’t know. His mind is a mess of thoughts like a sky full of built up thunder but unsure of where it’s going to break out. He doesn’t know how to sort his thoughts properly when painting isn’t helping at all. It scares him. 

“What’s the next card?” Sam asks and they leave it at that.

 

*

 

Steve’s Sunday sleep-ins are legendary. There was one Sunday in October of 2016 when he could have sworn he slept through the entire day. He’s usually careful to be diligent every other day of the week. He gets up at 6am, goes for his run and starts his day sweaty and exhausted. He always used to think whatever happened during the day couldn’t be any worse than going for a jog, and on the whole he’s right. Unfortunately, he’s been slipping whilst going to college, like everything else in his life, it’s gone slightly awry. So, he’s happy to make an exception this brisk December morning.

Unfortunately for Steve though, he’s exhausted because apparently Sam needed to go over the function of what seemed like every singular neuron in the brain last night. In theory he’s okay with this Sunday morning.

As Steve arrives at the cafe, Bucky is already there. His guitar is on his back and a paper bag is hanging over his arm, the handle nestling in the creases of the wool. He’s focusing on the screen of his phone and Steve can hear the clicking as Bucky’s thumb works over the keypad. Bucky looks up at Steve when he can hear his footsteps approaching, he smiles over at Steve, the leather glove he’s holding between his lips tumbles to the ground. Once Bucky scrabbles to pick the glove back up he grins up at Steve, white teeth flashing and his eyes crinkling, “Hey” he says and eyes Steve.

Steve is wearing two sweaters and his rough denim jacket. He should buy another jacket, he can afford one now with the job but buying a good winter coat feels like too much of a commitment. Should he get wool or down? Grey, black or blue? Hell, he could even go for bright green with pink tassels. But whatever the possible outcomes are, they all just seem too permanent, so he just chooses not to make the decision at all. He can take a little bit of sour wind and snow. It’s fine.

Bucky takes off the other glove and holds them together in his palm. He lifts his eyebrow and looks over the dark circles under Steve’s eyes and the muss of his hair.

“You look like shit,” he says with a smirk but there’s a tinge of worry.

Steve chooses to go with the nickname that Tony told him that only Bucky's sister can call him, on pain of death, torture, eternal damnation and everything in between. “Alright...Buckaroo” he shoots and Bucky makes a face as if he just stepped in shit but softens quickly. His shocked smirk quickly turns into a, _‘I guess I deserved that smirk’_

“Okay, you look hot in a ‘I've not slept in 15 days’ kinda way” he corrects and tries to save his ass.

Steve scoffs and pushes past Bucky who takes a small step back from the door. Steve jangles the lock and finally unlocks the door and lets them in, away from the sour December cold.

Bucky lugs in all the equipment from the hall and moves it over to the window, where the early morning light streams in through the glass like the it's made out of honey. As Bucky goes to grab his final amp he unhooks the bag from his arm and hands it to Steve.

“I didn't know what you liked, so I got it all,” he looks over his shoulder to Steve who was messing with the thermostat, “I figured you'd whip us up some coffee.”

“You figured?” Steve retorts, whilst peeling off layer after layer from his thick torso.

Bucky laughs and drops the peacoat from his shoulders before he lays it over the back of one of the chairs and begins to set up a myriad of equipment that Steve has absolutely no understanding of.

Steve peers into the bag in his hands, it’s filled with breakfast food from what looks like comes from all over the globe. Pastries, cold cuts and fruit from Europe. An Indian breakfast food that Steve barely recognized and waffles and bacon from the diner down the street. Steve can’t help but feel guilty, Bucky must have gone to a few places to get this. At least two places, because he knows that the Diner doesn’t serve fruit. He’s pretty sure if they were handed an apple they’d think it was a ball and try and play baseball with it. He unboxes one of the waffles and cuts off a large chunk while he waits by the coffee machine for it to warm up. He stuffs the large piece, dripping with syrup into his mouth just as Bucky plucks a couple of chords. The chords melt into something a little more recognizable, before Bucky starts to sing in a low gravelly voice under his breath.

The words are unrecognizably quiet but the tone and quality of his voice is undeniable. There’s an oldness to it that doesn’t match Bucky’s youthful exterior. It’s dark and deep and wise, something that Steve hadn’t ever really associated with Bucky before, but perhaps he should have done all along. The contrast, the new information, Steve can’t pull his attention away from what’s before him.

The coffee machine beeps as it reaches temperature and Bucky looks up at Steve, who is staring at him with his mouth half full of waffle.

Bucky laughs and points towards the bag, “Can you pass me one of those pastries? Or are you just gonna stand there and look…” he looks at Steve’s haphazardly styled hair, smear of syrup on the tip of his nose and the pinkness blossoming on Steve’s cheeks, “Pretty?”

Steve is quick to rifle through the bag and hands over something with raspberry swirled through the golden lines of the pastry. He ignores the thumping of his heart and shoots Bucky a half smile and perches on the chair that Bucky had put his coat on.

Bucky takes a bite from the danish, “So tell me your plan.”

Steve refrains from slapping his legs in delight, “Okay, so I was thinking we do it after Christmas break?” he looks at Bucky’s lips, his teeth and the way they bite and wrap around the pastry as he takes another bite. Steve clears his throat, “A little pick me up for all the students, plus people will actually have money from Christmas. Y’know.”

“Sounds good” Bucky says with his mouth full of the goodness and wipes his hands on his jeans before he twiddles away at his guitar again. “So, how to we get the word out?” he asks and Steve whips his head up from where he’s been entranced by how Bucky’s fingers move so easily and expertly across the strings.

“Maybe I could design some flyers to promote it?” Steve suggests with a roll of his shoulders.

“Maybe? You can, yes and then I can hand them around the music department!” he beams and puts his guitar down. “I could also hang them up around campus? Like, I bet some of the science nerds have different talents, who knows, maybe the silent science nerds got voices of angels?” he chuckles. “Plus, if I only hear show tunes from the music department that that night, I will kill everyone in the room and then myself.”

Steve snorts, “Well, there goes my audition.”

“Are you serious?” Bucky grimaces.

“What if I am?”

Bucky looks shocked, “Well, we’d have to cancel and pretend I’d never come up with the idea!”

Steve laughs and can’t help but feel so free and safe in the moment. It is a different feeling, usually different is difficult but for some reason this feels like the easiest thing in the world. He feels like he wants to do this everyday, hang with Bucky in the coffee shop, even if it means getting up at 7am on a Sunday. “Don’t worry, I’d never, ever, subject anyone other than Sam to my singing.”

“Good to know” Bucky winks and shakes his head, amused. “Anyway, you’re letting us use this place and you’re helping with the advertising, you’re doing more than enough. You don’t have to sing as well. And if your paintings are anything to go by they’re going to look awesome.”

Steve almost stops breathing, “What? You’ve seen my work?” he says a bit rushed and he tries to stay calm, cool, chill. His palms are sweating, he wipes them on a teatowel and swallows.

“Natasha showed me” Bucky says nonchalant and goes to pick up the guitar again.

Steve can’t help but feel a little betrayed that Nat would show Steve’s work to anyone without his permission. What if she showed him the painting that- “She did?” he says before he can let the anxiety explode out of him like an egg in a microwave.

Bucky strums a little on the black guitar in his hands, “Look I love them, maybe a little uh, dark in places but you’ve got some serious talent, Steve.” There a few strummings and then, “I’d uh love to come watch you paint, if that’s okay? It’s always fascinated me how people can just put emotions and pictures down on a canvas with just a brush.”

Steve goes bright red by that and just the thought of having Bucky in the atelier with him his causing every part of him to short circuit. It’s a absolutely terrifying prospect, but there’s something in the way that Bucky’s face lays open as if he’s just bared his soul to Steve that makes it an exciting one too. He makes a sound and turns in his seat so Bucky can’t see his tomato red face. “Th-thanks”  he stands up to make the coffee.

He hides behind the coffee machine and pretends its the steam that’s making his face light up red like a log on a bonfire. He pours an ungodly amount of sugar into Bucky’s coffee and hands the purple rubber and glass mug over to him.

Bucky goes to take a sip before pausing and looking at Steve, like a kid that has finally been caught sneaking the cookies out of the jar.

Steve laughs and remembers that Bucky doesn’t know that he knows about his secret sugar addiction, “Y’know I can start putting nice syrups and stuff in the coffee rather than sugar.”

Bucky looks at him wide eyed and tastes the coffee, “You know about the sugar?”

Steve nods and laughs, “It’s just sugar, why did-”

Bucky interrupts, it's clear that he’s relieved somewhat, “Oh I thought you’d be worried that I didn’t like your coffee, it’s just that, in truth I don’t like coffee that much. I go to Starbucks and get their glorified milkshakes usually.” He stops and takes a longer sip, like he was trying to fill the void he created by loosing those words with coffee.

“Why do you always order coffee then?” Steve asks, thinking about the myriad of other things on the menu.

Bucky screws up his eyebrows and cocks his head a little, “Because you like making it?”

“I do?” Steve asks as a question as much to himself as it is to Bucky.

Bucky looks slightly panicked for a moment, “Well at least with me you alway spend ages timing shit and doing nice foam art.” He puts his cup down on his amp and absentmindly licks the foam from his lip, “Then I feel bad for stirring in all the sugar and messing it up.”

Steve can’t help but stare at the flick of Bucky’s tongue over his lips, “Well let me try adding the syrup next time.”

Bucky smiles back at him “If I hate it I don’t have to pay”

Steve laughs and then takes a long sip from his own drink, “That sounds more like a threat, Barnes.”

After that Bucky begins to move the equipment around the room, looking for the best spot, view wise and acoustics wise. Steve helps him lug around the amps and the speakers and every time he does he can’t help but notice the way Bucky’s muscles move beneath his shirt, or the way he looks when he ties his hair back into a loose bun. And despite relaxing a lot around Steve throughout the year, Bucky still does the simplest things, like sitting down with such grace and purpose. He sits cross legged in his third chair of the morning like an oil painting hung in a gallery or a marble statue in a museum. The artist in Steve wants to reach out and run his hands over the stone. It’s all so serene and clear for a moment, like Steve is standing alone in the gallery, before the other people arrive and can distract him from the paintings. It’s just him watching a living work of art, plucking away and singing lightly and Steve realizes, just for a second that he is letting himself in for something far more than he could have ever imagined, and then it's gone.

It’s strange though, because even though every bone in his body is telling him that Bucky _is it, baby_ , his mind won't entertain it for more than a nanosecond. Instead he talks to him about the most inane stuff, like the best detergent for washing dark jeans or what season is the best season of _It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia_ , even though it now it somehow feels like his world is spinning on a totally different axis.

They continue talk and talk until there’s a heavy knock on the glass front door of the shop. Steve snaps his head up to look at the noise and there’s a group of slightly angry looking students stood in formation.

Steve checks his watch, ‘ _11:19_ ’. Shit.


	9. The Dangling Conversation

It’s been a few days since he hung out with Bucky at the coffee shop and a few days more since Steve told Sam about how he truly feels about his relationship with Thor. Just thinking about considering to end it with Thor is painful. It gives Steve a hard time falling asleep at night and an even harder time to get up in the morning.

The days go by and Sam’s starting to get more and more stressed about his exam season coming up. Steve is reluctant to hand in the painting for his own exam but with a little push from Natasha, he hands it in and thinks about it constantly. He’s half expecting his professor to put it up in the quad, blow it up and paste it on the side of a building. So, he’s stuck in their dorm. He feels dead while working out and whenever he’s with Thor it feels like someone’s trying to rip his lungs out. Thor doesn’t say anything but Steve can sense that he knows. They’re both just too… afraid speak up.

Also they need food.

Sam emerges from his pile of flashcards like a child emerging from a ball pit. He groans like a pillow releasing air as he dusts the remaining cards stuck on his person. He glances over at Steve like the blonde has done him the world’s most cutting betrayal.

Steve could have easily gone to the store himself but trundling through the campus at 11.43pm in Baltic winds is far less horrible with someone to complain with. Plus, Sam hasn’t moved in over 28 hours and Steve’s getting a little worried. The cold air will do them good, or it will kill them both but Steve’s certain that he’s going to die and compose into the dorm room floor anyway if he and Sam don’t get out of there soon.

“I still want to end things with Thor” Steve confesses while he’s pulling his jacket over his layers of sweaters. It’s almost half way through December, the nights are so long they bleed into the days and they're even colder than tip of Greenland and he’s starting to reconsider the whole putting off buying a better jacket thing.

Sam wraps himself up in a fancy merino scarf and closes his long woolen coat shut. “Damn buddy, I’m sorry” he says muffled by the scarf and lays a hand on Steve’s back to comfort him.

“It feels mutual” Steve narrows his eyes as he thinks back to the last few times he’s been around Thor. “I think we both realize it’s stopped going anywhere.” He pushes open the door out into the cold evening and feels a shiver crawl up his spine. He curses under his breath as it’s hard to breathe because of the cold. “It just felt convenient and easy when we started” he continues and remembers the looks Thor and Val have exchanged whenever she’s been around. The library, the coffee shop and the gym. “Plus I think Thor’s got a thing for someone else,” he shrugs and knows he should feel sad about that but he hopes, he wants Thor to find someone that feels more passionate about a relationship than what Steve does. He starts to worry that maybe he’s never gonna feel passionate. He just needs to muster the courage to end it, he'll do it after Tony's end of year party. The winter break will give them some time process it, or at least he won't have to look at Thor's beautiful arms and regret his decision instantly.

“Is it me? The person Thor’s after?” Sam interrupts his negative train of thoughts and wiggles his eyebrows.

Steve snorts and a thick cloud escapes his mouth as he chuckles, “If I say no I feel like you’re gonna be disappointed?”

“Yeah, little bit” Sam laughs although Steve's not entirely sure if he's joking or not. Then Sam shakes his head and starts lecturing how Steve’s gonna catch pneumonia again if he doesn’t get a better winter outfit.

“Yeah yeah, thanks mom” he rolls his eyes and pushes at Sam who nearly slips on the thin layer of ice and snow covering the ground. “Shit!” Steve laughs and grabs onto his friend to steady him.

“Damn you, Rogers!” Sam claps at his heart and pushes back causing Steve to actually slip too. There’s a light ‘pfft’ sound as Steve falls through the layer of snow and a hard ‘thwack’ as his ass hits the icy pavement. Sam laughs out loud and Steve can’t help but laugh along at his own misfortune. He’s pretty sure this is a laugh or cry situation, as he suddenly feels like all his internal organs have jumped into his throat.

It’s nice actually. To be a bit dumb and laugh like this.

It’s nice until Steve can feel the ice turn into water and his jeans are turning dark and cold around his butt.

“Fuck!” he says and gets back onto his feet, hands pulling at his jeans and then he frowns. “Dammit, Sam.”

“And who’s fault is this?” Sam questions and quirks his eyebrows. His scarf is wrapped up to his eyes but he knows he’s got a shit eating grin hidden under there.

Steve grunts and pushes past him as they finally get to the campus mini mart. The cold neon lights stream through the large windows like a beacon out into the night. Steve can feel his trudge absent mindedly turn into a power walk as they walk into the aura of light.

He clasps his gloved hands over his ass and hisses, he’s not even sure if he can feel the water through his gloves too. Everything is just too cold. “You could’ve reached out?” he complains. “That’s what I did to you.”

“You’re a child, Rogers! A child! Get over it.” Sam bellows as they open the door and is hit by the warmth. “Thank you, beloved store for granting us this heat. Holy shit, this is nice!” Sam shudders as the heat swathes the two damp students. Sam flexes his hands as the feeling returns to them. Sam has never coped well in the cold, he’d always pretend to be sick with Steve to get out of going outside on the yard during winter.

“Hope it dries my butt too. I’m soaked. Ugh!”

Sam pushes a basket into Steve’s hands, there’s a chink sound as the metal collides with the buttons on Steve’s belt.  “I’ll pay for the meat and you can get the cereal and milk and the rest of that weird health shit you buy.”

“Fine.”

They tactically split up to cover more ground. As usual the mini mart is packed at gone midnight and they want to get home as soon as possible. They collect the items from their shopping lists one by one. They meet in the cereal aisle, causing a slight stir in between the bran flakes and the honey, with Sam insisting that Steve get’s a different cereal than the high fiber one but Steve makes a good case and Sam rescinds, or at least just gives up.

Just as they’re about to round around the next aisle they start to hear hushed voices and rustling. Steve pokes his head around against the tinned tomatoes and Sam pokes his head out above his again like they’re in some 1980’s John Hughes movie. Steve's sure if he concentrates hard enough he'd be able to hear Simple Minds teeming out of the shitty mini mart speaker system.

“... it’s not my fucking fault Barnes!” Tony hisses and raises his hands. 

“Kinda seems that way!” Bucky spews and pokes into Tony’s chest. “Don’t fucking tell me otherwise!”

Bucky is stronger than he looks and Tony rocks back into the milk fridge causing the bottles to rattle on impact. Steve watches as Tony swings a fist but Bucky ducks and he ends up knocking into the stand of dried pasta causing Bucky to look and check if he’s broken anything and when Tony swings again he doesn’t miss and his fist collides with Bucky’s face, splitting his lip and causing a sound that sounds a lot like a nose getting broken.

Steve’s lunges to interfere, he wants to protect Bucky even though he’s sure he can probably protect himself. Worry is coursing through him like acid and it feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest when he looks at the blood smeared on Bucky’s face.

Sam puts out his arm to hold Steve back, knowing that Steve hurtling his giant body into the pile of angry brunettes in the narrow aisle wasn’t going to make the situation any better.

There’s a moment of silence, of two angry guys just staring at each other and Steve can feel the bad energy coming off them both like they were both made of solid uranium. Bucky looks just about ready to be packaged up and taken on a trip on the Enola Gay. There’s something deep and seething between them. Maybe it would be best if Steve didn’t interfere, Tony and Bucky had known each other for so long, it’d be like getting involved with the Montagues and the Capulets. At least they’d stopped punching each other.

Then, Bucky’s suddenly leaping onto Tony, tackling him to the linoleum floor, landing a few punches to Tony’s face and torso but mostly he misses, hitting the floor. It’s clear that Bucky is much stronger because no matter what Tony does he can’t get Bucky off of him. Bucky holds Tony between his surprisingly strong thighs and shakes his shoulder as if he’s reloading his arm for another round.

Steve throws Sam’s arm out of the way and runs over to Bucky where he manages to get a strong grip on his shoulders. Bucky goes to lunge forward again but Steve stops him by wrapping his arms around Bucky’s torso and yanking him backwards. They both end up pressed up against each other on the floor and Tony, bloodied, scrambles to his feet.

Sam runs over too, “What the fuck is going on?” he asks and helps Tony steady himself.

Bucky is seething, a sound sounding a lot like a hiss escapes him and Steve can smell the beer, no, _whiskey_ , coming off his friend and realizes that Bucky’s drunk. He fights against Bucky’s pushing, his strength heavier than Bucky’s, then as if all his willpower to fight had run out suddenly he deflates and leans against Steve’s chest.

Steve can’t help but focus Bucky’s breathing as he lays against him. He runs his arm over Bucky’s chest and clasps his hand over Bucky’s neck. He gives it a light squeeze, knowing that the pressure always helped him calm down when he’d been freaking out. Steve takes deep breaths and Bucky matches his breathing with his own quickly. He looks angry and desperate when he looks over his shoulder at Steve. He looks betrayed and confused like a dog caged for the first time. Their faces are so close their noses are almost touching. Steve can’t tear his eyes off him because it feels so unnatural to see Bucky like this, completely out of control. He wants to attack Tony himself right now.

Sam snaps his fingers to get Steve’s attention before he gives a nod to the floored Steve as a silent agreement to separate the bull from the matador. “Come on, Stark. Let’s pick this up and go for a walk.”

“He can pick it up” Tony mutters and Steve can feel Bucky tense under his grip, charging up, ready to fight again. He scrabbles to his knees and Steve tighten’s his grip against Bucky’s chest until he’s practically nestled into his bicep.

“Oh, give it a rest, James. Seriously!” Tony prods.

“Fuck you!” Bucky slurs and slumps back into Steve’s chest again. “Fuck you.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say but he knows he needs to get them both out of here and he starts by helping Bucky up and leading him up. He feels awful about leaving the mess, if this wasn’t a situation where he was sure someone was going to end up in hospital he’d be on his hands and knees clearing it up. As they pass the bewildered looking cashier on their way out he smiles, “We’ll cover anything that’s broken. Uh, here’s my number” he is about to hand it to the cashier but then Tony comes over and rips the little note up and hands the cashier his card.

“You always do that” Bucky growls, “You don’t have to fucking show off all the fucking time!” Bucky turns around and manages to get a fistful of Tony’s sleeve but Tony slaps his hand away and walks out without another word.

“I hate him” Bucky gasps as they get out into the cold air and he shucks out of Steve’s grip.

It’s still freezing outside, the ground no longer a mixture of ice and water, it’s just pure black ice. Bucky is only wearing a leather jacket, his shitty Nasa t-shirt and skintight jeans.

“Hey Bucky” Steve says softly when Bucky’s starting to walk away from him.

Bucky doesn’t say anything, he pockets his hands and stumbles away. For someone so clearly drunk and on an icy floor, Bucky is surprisingly co-ordinated. Perhaps those two things balanced each other out.

Steve carefully jogs after him to catch up, trying for each step not to slip and fall on his ass again. He reaches out and grabs Bucky’s arm. “Buck, look at me” he asks and Bucky faces him, eyes red and the tip off his nose dripping with either tears or snot. Perhaps both.

“What was that about?”

“Just the Starks fucking my family over, as usual,” he smiles sadly and looks down at the ground. “His dad fired my dad.” The words comes out as a whisper and Bucky looks back up, head cocked back and he’s clearly trying to hold back tears.

Steve notices the tension in his jaw, the shaking, the half-hearted and sad smile that he knows oh so well. “Oh” is all that escapes Steve’s lips. He doesn’t know if there’s anything he can do for Bucky, if there’s anything to be done at all.

“ _Oh_ _indeed_ ” Bucky sighs and looks away. He rolls his shoulders as a gust of wind carries sharp knives with it and causes them both to grit their teeth together as they’re both under dressed for this clear sign that winter has arrived. 

“But how is that Tony’s fault? That wasn’t his fault, right?” Steve frowns. 

Bucky runs a hand through his hair. Steve notices how long it’s gotten and automatically does the same to his own hair. “My dad ended up losing a case because Tony did some irresponsible shit that swung the jury. I would say it’s definitely his fault.”

“Really?” Steve says surprised. “I thought Tony and his dad didn’t get along?”

“They don’t” Bucky’s smile is cynical, “But you can’t fire your son” he taps his temple and clicks his tongue. 

It’s a world far more than Steve could comprehend from his tiny little house outside of New York, “I’m sorry but do we live on a TV show?” Steve can’t help but chuckle and hope that he can lighten the mood a little but shuts up when he sees Bucky’s scowl under the streetlight. “Sorry.”

Bucky slouches and kind of rolls his entire body as another gust of wind hits them. They’re both freezing and Steve will for sure catch either a cold or pneumonia of they stay out much longer.

“Uhm…” Steve pulls out the keys in his pocket and awkwardly points in the direction of The Split Bean and licks his lips unsure if his idea is a good one. “Okay, the shop is close by” he says and Bucky looks at him. Eyes glazed over with tiredness and drunkenness. “I have the keys, lets sober you up properly and we’ll talk.”

“Captain America coming to the rescue” Bucky chimes and waves his hand mockingly and pushes past Steve, somehow he’s not even slipping a little on the ice even with his worn boots. “Come on, Rogers. I’m freezing.”

Steve mocks him right back behind his back by mimicking his childish behavior as he pushes past Bucky to get to the door first. He nearly slips but Bucky grabs him by the collar and keeps him up.

“Bad balance?”

Steve pushes him off and rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Barnes.”

Once he unlocks the door and they get inside Steve can’t help but feel relieved that it’s just the two of them again. In the darkness of the coffee shop, the plants cast long misshapen shadows across the room, illuminated by the street lights outside. It's still warmer than outside but only just. Steve doesn’t like being in the coffee shop in the dark, with all the metallic equipment and fridges. It feels far colder and more clinical than the warm buzz that fills it during the day time.

He peers over at Bucky who’s walking over to the nearest leather couch, flicking on a lamp, swaddling himself in a checked blanket and throwing himself into it. He pulls the blanket up to his chin and when he looks up and meets Steve’s soft gaze, Steve looks away and walks off to find something that can sober Bucky up. He can feel something burn enigmatically in his chest. Like something toeing the line between comfort and possession. He wants to make sure nothing bad ever happens to Bucky again.

He goes to get the milk out of the fridge but there’s nothing there. He forgot that Thursdays were clear out day. He looks over all the empty shelves and there’s nothing at all. “Good fucking timing” he whispers to himself.

A pot of coffee and some cheesy loops will have to do. He sets them down in front of Bucky. With Bucky’s cup and a white mug of his own. Steve empties out a sickening amount of sugar into Bucky’s cup and pours in coffee into both receptacles.

Bucky frowns and grimaces when he sees the cheesy loops. “You can’t throw together a toast or something?”

“I’m sorry, it’s all that we keep in the shop overnight. Either these or some old jalapeno poppers that Gregg keeps in the fridge.”

“Gross” Bucky snorts and takes what Steve’s offering. “Thanks” he adds and stuffs his face with the loops, drinks the water and then the coffee and rubs his hands all over his face like he’s restless, like rubbing his face will make the frustration go away.

Steve wants to stop him rubbing because he’s terrified that he’s going to get cheesy loop dust in his hair, but stops because he realises that's probably the absolute least of Bucky’s worries right now.

He’s biting down on his busted lip so hard it starts bleeding a little again. Steve’s not used to seeing Bucky like this and he just wants to reach out and-

“I don’t know what we’re gonna do” Bucky’s laugh comes out as desperate and he stands up from the couch, shakes his leather jacket off and starts pacing. “My dad has had that job since before I was born. We’ve always worked for the Starks, Steve” Bucky turns to him, eyes wide and panicked. “I’m gonna have to quit school” he says like it’s a plan.

“Just slow down a minute” Steve says but Bucky’s started pacing again. Steve can hear how his breathing has become shorter but more frequent and he knows Bucky’s on the verge of a panic attack. “Bucky, hey” he grabs Bucky’s bicep carefully, “Slow down, okay?” Steve rubs his thumb over Bucky’s bicep in the most comforting way possible.

Bucky looks at him, no he looks inside Steve for a safe place, a shore where he can hold on too and not let go until the waters have calmed down. And instantly, Steve wants to build him a house on his shore where they can live together and fish and drink badly made pina coladas from coconuts.

He inhales while thinking _‘what the fuck’_ to himself, and wants to panic himself at that beautifully domestic image that his mind just conjured up. Steve puts his own feelings aside for a minute. “Something similar happened with me. My grandpa is sick and my mom can’t afford to send me money and look after him. So, I got a job and I’m scraping by okay” Bucky looks at him like he’s grown two heads. Steve chuckles, “It’s really fucking shitty at times but we have to make do.”

There’s a beat.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear so much.”

Out of all the things he thought Bucky would say, that most certainly wasn’t it. “It’s a common misconception about me. Apparently people take one look at me and think I talk like a kindergarten teacher.”

“I wouldn’t have got anything done if you were my kindergarten teacher” Bucky grins but catches Steve’s raised brows and surprised face. “I’m uh not my smoothest right now, please ignore that.”

Steve laughs but notices how his right eye has started to bruise. “I’ll go and get some ice for your face.”

When he gets back, Bucky’s sitting down on the couch again. Drinking coffee with one hand and eating with the other.

Steve hands him the bag of ice that he found in the fridge which had a yellow post-it note to it saying that ‘GREGG’S. FUCK OFF, STEVE’ but Steve thinks these are desperate times and that a bag of ice is easily replaced. He’s not sure why Gregg even has ice anyway. Gregg can fuck off.

Steve hands the bag over but instead of putting it against Bucky’s face straight away, Bucky just holds it out, like he can’t quite figure out what to do with it. Bucky looks at him after he’s been holding the bag for a few minutes, his face lights up like a light bulb. Albeit in his drunken state, one of those really slow eco light bulbs that took forever to turn on. “Can you get some tape and tape it on so I can carry on eating?” he moans and motions to drinking coffee with one hand and eating cheesy loops with the other.

Steve belly laughs and sits down next to Bucky, “I’ll hold it.” If he had paid attention he’d notice how Bucky tensed up for the slightest of seconds as the bag was pressed to his face. Instead he softly asks, “So, how’ve you been Buck?”

He clears his voice, “Not bad I guess, for like my entire world crumbling around me.”

Usually Steve would respond by saying something along the lines that he was being even more dramatic than Steve but it kind of was true.

“Can you talk? I feel like I’ll fall asleep if you don’t. Tell me something funny” Bucky demands quietly and slouches into the couch, the leather squeaking against his jeans.

Bucky closes his eyes momentarily and sighs. In that instant it feels like all is right in Steve’s world. There’s something that can only be described as pure contentedness that washes over Steve as he holds the bag to Bucky’s face with one hand and sips his coffee with the other. Steve traces the droplets of melted ice down Bucky’s skin with his eyes, the tracks of water shimmer like powered diamonds in the whiskey coloured lamplight.

Steve doesn’t think before he says it. It’s like when he becomes comfortable his brain just stop filtering his thoughts; “Thor’s brother, Loki, caught me naked in the kitchen at their house last week. That was both hilarious and ex-”

Bucky sits up straight, confusion on his face, “Was this at a party or something?”

Steve readjusts the bag on Bucky’s nose and he swats it away with his cheesy hand.

Steve suddenly realises that Bucky doesn’t know. He hasn’t talked about Thor at all with Bucky. “Uh...” Steve rubs the back of his neck, “Me and Thor. We’re dating.”

“Thor?” Bucky questions. “What about the bathroom? You said you’re not gay.” For a second it feels like he’s being interrogated by a drunken cop at the end of his line. Bucky’s words are heavy, sad even.

“Well, technically I’m not” Steve mumbles.

There’s a flash of anger on Bucky’s face and he looks out of the window, watching as it’s started to snow again. Steve can feel the trembling of his leg and see the gnawing he’s doing to his lip. But then the trembling stops and he sort of looks relieved.

“My emotions were not completely fucked. Good to know” he jokes and looks down, his hair shielding whatever expression he has on his face.

Steve brings the ice into his lap and thinks back to that night, the bathroom and how many times it’s haunted him. A kiss that he’s tried so hard to forget but the memory kept reeling him back in. Everytime he thought about that moment electricity skirted across his skin and his heart pounded. He’s pretty sure that trying to forget that moment would be like asking him to forget how to breathe. “I’m sorry about pushing you that night” he mutters out, his voice dry. He feels a little lost and awkward, not really knowing what to say or do.

“And I’m sorry about kissing you, so I guess we’re even” Bucky is coming off as pissed off but lets it go quickly with a forced chuckle. “It’s fine” he whispers and looks away for a brief second.

Steve pauses and studies Bucky’s face as it goes thoughtful and pained. Steve wants to tuck away the stray hairs so he can see Bucky’s face properly. The cool moonlight lit Bucky’s angular face in blacks and blues like a Van Gogh painting.

“I’m sorry” he says suddenly and looks at Steve. “You don’t owe me anything, Steve. If you didn’t want to kiss me you didn't want to kiss me. Regardless of if I’ve got a dick or not” he adds with a quick smile and abrupt nervous chuckle. He sighs, “I’m sorry for being weird around you.”

Steve wants to tell him that he wasn’t wrong and he shouldn’t apologize but there's something in his own damn self preservation he can’t say that right now.

“I was weird too, please just…” Steve fades off because he’s said what he needs to say at least for now.

They sit in what oddly enough is comfortable silence and listen to the wind outside howl as it hits the corners of the coffee shop and rattles the leafless ivy branches.

“Do you think there’ll be a storm?” Steve asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Nah” Bucky mutters, eyes closed and melded into the soda again. “Tell me some tales, Rogers. I think I might be concussed so you gotta keep me awake.”

Steve rakes his brain trying to come up with anything and then he’s hit by a soft familiar warmth and a fond memory. “Alright, Buckaroo” Steve grins and Bucky groans. “This one time when me and Sam were kids I used to threaten all the bullies unprovoked because they would sometimes if not always send glares Sam’s way or bully me for being scrawny. Like, I could feel the racism radiating off them whenever they looked at him and I would get so so mad, right and ok this one time, we had to run from seven of the older guys because I called them racists and bullies. So, we ran and ran until I had a asthma attack and buckled over scraping my knees and hands. And then Sam,” Steve laughs and laughs until it hurts and Bucky’s smiling at him, “He literally picked me up and ran with me bridal style until we reached his grandpa’s house. And then Sam had to lecture me on how not to provoke the lions and his brother patched me up with bandaids.”

Bucky laughs and goes soft next to Steve, he melts and slides until he’s resting against Steve.

“Okay my turn” he sighs lightly and picks at a thread in the holes of his jeans. “My sister is my best friend,” Bucky snorts at that himself and shakes his head, “She's a real pain but she's always been there y’know? Through all the bullshit with our parents, the bad friendships and my ‘unrealistic’ goals of becoming an artist rather than a lawyer.”

Steve sees how his soft face goes to irritated and pained. The way his brows creases and his nose wrinkle in disgusted confusion.

He sighs and rubs his palms against his jeans, “Anyway, she’s always been the one to  believe in me for who I am and what I want. We had this weekly game night when we both lived at home and she would not quit until she'd won every game! Monopoly, Scrabble, this dumb card game, UNO and man,” he chuckles and runs a hand over his face and looks at Steve, his grey blues staring at his, “she’s relentless”.

Steve can feel Bucky looking over the lines of his face. Steve knows he looks far older than 18, with deep lines in his forehead, battle worn from all the moral crusades he’s started and won. Bucky inhales deeply, whilst letting his eyes settle on the small mole on Steve’s cheek.

“Once when I was like, sixteen and had a friend over, and let me say, I really liked this friend and she still insisted on playing the games. I just knew she was going to thrash me, make me look like a proper idiot,” Bucky clicks his tongue and tries to avoid the radiant blues of Steve’s eyes, “And she let me win every game. I don’t how impressive winning a game of Monopoly actually is but she knew how I felt and what I wanted. Even when I didn’t say it.”

Steve could hear Bucky’s voice hitch with that last sentiment, somehow it felt like a little more than a statement about Monopoly.

Steve breaks their gazing and looks down at his hands instead. “She sounds cool.”

“She is,” Bucky says with that light fondness again, “She’s a bit like Sam.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She's saved my sorry ass more times than I can count. I was such a little shit back in the day. Always starting fights over the smallest things.”

They laugh and tell stories about their worst fights and their most petty ones. Steve can't stop laughing when Bucky sleepily tells about this one time he nearly fought an old lady because he swears she stole his bag of candy.

“Over a bag of candy?” Steve cries and wipes at his eyes. “Oh, Bucky!”

“They were gumballs!” he defends and sits up straight, “I was eight years old and gumballs are like crack to an eight year old, ask anyone!”

“You really think an old woman would steal a bag of gumballs?” Steve questions and a flash of doubt flashes across Bucky’s face amongst the laughter.

He ponders for a second, “Yes, I do believe so” he crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

“Alright, Buckaroo, whatever you say.”

Bucky looks at Steve though hooded eyes and sighs, “Tony let you in on how much I hate that nickname?” he kicks the coffee table lightly with his booted foot.

Steve holds his breath for a second, not really knowing what to say and takes the mostly melted bag of ice from Bucky’s face , “I can stop call-”

“Nah” Bucky smiles, “I don’t really hate it that much.”

Bucky sits up and leans over the coffee table, letting his fingers draw in the residue water from the ice. He draws a small star in the water and the wood. He flicks his face slightly towards Steve, just enough so Steve could see the greys of his eyes, just for a second, before going to fill in the star with his damp index finger, “Is it weird if I say I feel like we grew up together, y’know another lifetime ago?”

Steve’s face goes a little slack jawed, he really doesn’t know how to react because it’s like Bucky had been speaking with Steve’s own tongue.

Before Steve can answer, Bucky stands from the couch, swaying a little until he regains some balance and then sits down backward on a dining chair, still facing Steve.

Steve can’t help but let a soft half smile spread on his face, “Yeah it’s a bit weird, but not wrong.”

Bucky beams back at him in way, that felt like making Steve smile was the entire point of his existence.

Steve has to look away, he just has to. He begins to play with the water on the table next to Bucky’s star.

Bucky leans out on the chair and begins to idly fiddle with one of the long leaves from a large spider plant. “Next thing, tell me about your first girlfriend” he pauses “or _boyfriend_. I don’t know.” He shrugs.

Steve thinks back to Peggy, with her sharp tongue and her every man’s worst nightmare attitude. “Peggy, she was, wow she was something. Beautiful as you could ever think of, dark hair and dark eyes. She was the smartest, funniest and most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he looks at Bucky and can’t help but correct himself, “at least one of them.”

Steve can feel Bucky blush, even though he can’t really see it in the ambient lamplight.

He clears his throat, “What about you?”

Bucky yanks at the leaf, it snaps and makes him jump, “Never had one.” He starts to brush the detached leaf around his face.

Steve wants to badly to replace the leaf with the tip of his finger that he lets out, “I find that hard to believe,” without thinking.

Steve wants to ask why but he knows why and its not his place to pry Bucky, just like Thor let him, Bucky’s gotta do it on his own. He doesn’t know if Bucky’s out, even to himself, whenever Steve mentions him, Thor or sexuality in general, Bucky’s hackles go way up. He makes himself look as much like a human porcupine as much as he physically can. He still doesn’t know why Bucky kissed him that night, why he was even brave enough to do it but he did. And now Steve can let himself realise that he’s so glad that he did.

Bucky picks up the bag of very cold water and holds it to his face again and hisses when the coldness comes in contact with his sore nose.

Steve shakes his head and leans forward and takes the bag from Bucky, placing it on the wet patch on the table again. He carefully and hesitantly touches the dried blood on Bucky’s lip. Bucky rolls his tongue over his lip, just lightly upon Steve’s contact. Steve stops breathing when he touches the sleek dampness of his lip.

He carefully moves his hand to the bridge of Bucky’s nose,

“What are you doing?” Bucky quietly asks. It’s so quiet that he’s not sure if it was a thought being uttered from his own head.

“Just checking,” Steve starts but doesn’t finish.

Bucky’s lips part as he places his own hand lightly over Steve’s. Steve touches the bridge with his fingertips. It’s deadly silent as Steve take’s Bucky’s hand in his own and gently guides Bucky’s finger up and down the swollen length of his nose.

Steve’s voice is unbarebly low and unbearably soft, “I’ve been in enough fights to know if something’s gonna be permanent.” He takes Bucky’s hand and places it over his own crooked nose. Steve can feel Bucky’s gentle, hesitant touch move over the little peaks on the bridge of his nose.

“See?” Steve asks, letting go of Bucky’s hand.

Bucky’s hand lingers on Steve’s nose for a moment more steadily this time and traces over the crooked bumps.

Steve exhales the breath he’d been holding as Bucky pulls away, “I think you’re good, Buck.”

Bucky smiles that dangerous smile again, the one that tells Steve that his sun should rise and his moon should set with Bucky. But this time instead of shying away he lets himself feel it, every glimmering second of it. Suddenly, it’s all clearer than the 150 million kilometers to the sun on a burning hot summer day.

 _Bucky’s it_.

He’s the reason that he hasn’t felt right with Thor or himself. It’s not that there hasn’t been any room to begin with, it’s that the room has already been occupied, by the guy who started it all by scrawling his number on Steve’s hand in the hallway and kissing him in the bathroom. Bucky with his stupid Nasa t-shirt, his stupid guitar and that even stupider bun at the nape of his neck. Bucky and the dumb way he dumps a kilo of sugar in every coffee, the dumb way he lights up when he talks about his sister and the even dumber way that he looks at Steve like the stars align just for him.

Steve lets out a forlorn sigh, crosses his arms and realizes he’s love, and it’s all that dimpled idiot’s fault.

Bucky looks him over, not sure where the change in tone had come from, “What’s wrong?”

“Noth-” Steve starts, but then he knows that if he wants to be with Bucky he should start by being honest and that meant breaking up with Thor, “I need to talk to Thor.”


	10. When the Levee Breaks

Steve wakes up with a drive he hasn’t felt in ages. The creativity is buzzing through his whole body, he can feel it sparking in his fingertips and he knows where he’ll be spending most of his day. He gets out of bed, warm feet colliding with the cold wooden floor and when he takes a looks outside the window to see if the cold inside matches whatever is outside, he can’t help but grin. There’s snow lead in heavy blankets and the quad is bustling with life. It looks like a schoolyard full of children, some students are in on the snowball fight, some are creating snowmen and other figurines.  He decided to sneak out and grab a lump of snow to wake Sam up with but he catches Steve’s eye before he can make his escape. 

 

“You’re awfully chipper this morning” Sam states as he waddles over to the little kitchen area in their room to pour himself some coffee while Steve’s stuffing his face with cereal. “And you smell like flowers, what the hell?”

 

“I’ve finished all my classes, I don’t have a shift today and I feel great. So, yeah I’m a bit cheery,” Steve takes a huge pile of cereal in his mouth, “Also I think I used the last of the hot water” and as if karma caught up with him, milk dribbles onto his chin as he grins at Sam. “Shit” he mutters  and wipes at the milk running down from his chin. 

 

“Pig” Sam comments but smiles softly. Steve can see that he hasn’t completely woken up yet. Sleep is still in the crooks of his eyes and he’s a bit hunched, probably trying to stay warm. “Where you off to then?”

 

“Atelier” Steve says and grabs his bag. The rattle of his paint brushes making him weirdly excited. “I wanna paint some more before we all go home for Christmas.”

 

“Makes sense” Sam clucks his tongue and nods. “My final my exam is today so I better get ready too.”

 

“Ah shit, that’s today?” Steve gapes and feels instantly bad for his friend. “I could meet you afterwards for coffee or maybe console you after if you completely fail?” he jokes and earn a punch to his shoulder.

 

“Whoever calls you Mr. Nice they sure as hell don’t know you, man” Sam shakes his head with a snort. “You’re mean, Steve Rogers.”

 

“You know you love me” Steve winks and for the briefest of seconds Sam turns to reach and grab something out of the cupboard. Steve feels the little mischief imp inside of him knock on the inside of his head, ‘ _ be the little shit you were born to be _ ’. He necks the rest of Sam’s coffee before he sprints out of the door.

 

*

 

There’s something liberating being all alone in a big spacious place when Steve’s felt like he’s been trapped in a closet for so long. There’s not that much going on now, inside his head and in his life, and for the first time in a while it feels like he can just sit down, breathe and do what he loves.

 

The paint strokes come easy today, red pink hues of the human skin mixed in with the soft forest greens and greys, before he knows it he’s painted a portrait of his grandpa. Simon and Garfunkel plays softly over the speakers and Steve let’s himself just let go of every worrisome thought. He can feel them emanate out of him like dark shadows. 

 

His moment is broken when the heavy metal door to the atelier slams shut and Steve wonders if he’s been shot.

 

“Do you live here Rogers?” Natasha asks loudly as she comes towards him, a coffee in each hand and a scarf hanging over her shoulders. There’s fresh snow on her hat and a pinkness to her cheeks that indicates that she probably participated in the snowball fight outside.

 

“You know I live in the coffee shop” he smiles at her and accepts the coffee she’s handing to him.

 

“Not anymore, I was there right now and this guy, Gregg, was banning you for stealing something of his.” She leans on the wheeled box next to Steve’s painting and quirks a brow. “He mentioned something about ice and cheesy loops?” 

 

Images of Bucky comes to his mind. The entire night comes back to him like a warm flaming tornado and he feels hot with a moment like that stuck in his head. Steve keeps his mouth shut but smiles as he takes sip of his coffee. “I know nothing of the sort” he says and winks at her just to tease.

 

She swats him with the end of her scarf, “I don’t think you have a home anymore, Rogers.”

 

He watches as she walks over to the bench to put and hang her stuff up. He notices how she’s cut her hair shorter and dyed it more orange than red. “You changed your hair!” he comments and she twirls around showing it off. “You look good, Nat.”

 

“Thanks!” she comes over and sits down on the station next to his. “I felt like changing it a bit up, but not too much you know?” she asks but doesn’t really want an answer. 

 

She probably wouldn’t have cared if anyone told her that maybe she would suit being a blonde or  brunette more. Nat is one of those girls that does ‘the thing’ for themselves and not everybody else. Steve likes that about her.

 

She pokes her head to look at Steve’s painting and makes a complimenting sound, a soft hum and then she turns to him, “Does Sam hate it?”

 

“I wouldn’t say he hates it?” Steve asks a bit confused. “Why would he hate it?”

 

“He told us in the library one day that he doesn’t really like your style.”

 

Steve feels a pang of betrayal, it stings. “What?” he croaks out.

 

“No, sorry I’m phrasing it wrong. He doesn’t get why you use thick brush strokes to cover up parts of people’s portraits. He was saying that he would like to see you do a full portrait one day where you don’t ‘ruin’ it by crossing out parts of people’s faces.”

 

Sam never really talks art with Steve, he just goes along with whatever Steve says when he’s ranting on and on about brushes and different types of paint. Steve knows that Sam doesn’t really care that much for art but he supports Steve no matter what. 

 

Still, it hurts a little when Nat says he doesn’t like Steve’s style.

 

“I like it” she adds. “He didn’t say it as if he didn’t like your style, I phrased myself incorrectly” she mutters a sorry and sighs. “I’m sure he just doesn’t understand why you want to ‘cut’ some parts out. Like with your grandpa here, you decided to cross out his eyes and mouth because I think that’s where his wisdom lies and you cut them out because it resonates with some vulnerability within you and when you cut that out, you see the nose, which is very much like your own. So, to anyone it would just look like an old man with a nose but for the ones that know - it’s a personal one. Your paintings are personal.” 

 

Steve looks at her, his heart soft for this girl threatening to spill out some tears of his tear ducts. For years he’s hated to explain his art.  _ ‘Why do you cut out half the face? Why do you not include the nose? What’s up the the erasure?’ _ Steve wants to hug her for understanding without him having to explain. “Thanks” he smiles and blinks. “I didn’t think anyone would, I don’t know, see that they might be personal? I just like finding the parts of people’s features that haunts me.” He thinks back to the painting he handed in. The eyes staring back at him.

 

“Bucky likes it when you paint this style too” she adds softly as she picks up her own brush.

 

Steve recalls Bucky’s words when they were discussing the posters for the gig night, “So I’ve heard” he chuckles and inhales sharply.

 

Natasha gawps quietly, a big smirk on her face.

 

There’s a part of Steve that wants to tell Natasha to stop showing his work around, but then why not? His professors keep yelling at them to ‘get out there’ and ‘show off your damn work’ so it might actually land them a job or at least get their name out into the world. Also Bucky liked it, and Steve’s sure others will too if he just stops being so reluctant and shy about it.

 

He can see Natasha looking at him in the corner of his eye and when he turns to look at her she presses her lips together in a thin line as if to refrain from saying something.

  
“What?” he asks her.

 

“Nothing” she doesn’t look at him but her smile is carrying the words she doesn’t speak.

 

He doesn’t want to dig into it, so he continues with the painting until it’s completely done. Natasha is sketching by his side. The only sound between them is the sounds of the radio through the speakers, the forgone sounds of jeers from outside and the gentle scratching of Natasha’s charcoal. 

 

Natasha stops for a second, she tilts her book and then looks up at Steve and his painting. Steve catches wind of this and takes a peak at her work. There would have been a time where she would have tried to poke his eyes out with a hot spoon for doing that, now she likes the second opinion, an extra pair of eyes.

 

Steve catches Natasha’s eye before she goes to start sketching again, “I guess you’re going to Tony’s party tonight?”

 

“Yep” Natasha nods as she adds the white highlights with her chalk.

 

Steve places his paintbrush between his teeth and cocks his head in contemplation of his painting, “I’m looking forward to it” he mumbles, half aware of what he’s saying.

 

Natasha looks up at him, her green eyes wide with surprise, “You are?” 

 

Steve removes the brush from his mouth. Tony said it was a gathering rather than a party, a small friendly Christmas gathering, with eggnog and Cards Against Humanity, “It’s a small thing isn’t it?”, he presses for the reassurance he’s sure he’s not going to get. 

 

“Is that what Tony told you?” she half snorts and grimaces. “And I can’t believe Tony still invited you after you took Barnes’ side on the whole incident.”

 

“He said and I quote: ‘If you and Thor come around then the girls will follow’ and then he added a meek please at the end of that.” Steve had felt a bit uncomfortable when Tony came up to him and asked, Thor present clearly amused that Tony would use them as bait for his ‘gathering’. Steve’s settled with it, it’s fine, or so he tells himself.

 

Natasha snickers and feigns wiping a tear from her eye, leaving a stripe of charcoal beneath it, “I can’t argue with his logic there.”

 

Steve thinks she looks adorable, but he’s sure she’ll kill him if he doesn’t let her know. “You’ve got a little”, he taps under his own eye.

 

“Thanks” she flips out her little mirror and scrubs beneath her eye. She looks over the mirror as she cleans it, “How’s it going with you and him? Thor?” her voice is hesitant and curious. 

 

Steve doesn’t know how to respond at all. He’s not about to tell Nat that he’s planning on breaking up with Thor tonight. That he’s falling desperately in love with Bucky Barnes and all in all, its not going to the point that it’s going backwards. But he just settles for, “It’s uh, going I guess.”

 

Natasha looks at him skeptically, she’s not an idiot. 

 

Steve quickly fills the gap in the conversation before she can say anything,  “How’s it going between you and Clint.”

 

She narrows her eyes and smirks. “It’s  _ going, _ ” cleary she decides on going with the same non committance as Steve. 

 

Then as readily as she was to dismiss her relationship with Clint, in the same standoffish way she dismisses everything, from her straight A’s to the way she knocked a guy out at the gym with one punch, Natasha’s face lights up. It’s clear that she can’t control it, it's like light has been turned on somewhere deep within her and there’s no way that it can stay that deep, so instead it seeps out of her uncontrollably, and it almost blinds Steve. 

 

Natasha clears her throat, after probably realising that the dopey smile on Steve’s face, probably matched her own. 

 

“Don’t tell anyone this, but I think I actually really like him,” she tries to stifle the goofy smile and points her finger at Steve, “I will kill you if you do.”

 

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, “Yeah, I know Nat.”

 

For the rest of the morning they both sit in comfortable silence, carefully completing their pieces before saying goodbye and going their separate ways. 

 

*

 

Thor and Steve finds their way home to Thor’s from Tony’s Christmas party. The snow is packed beneath their feet, crunching loudly as they stumble their was up Thor’s porch and a light flurry of snow is filling the air. Steve is laughing like a lunatic as the Christmas hat on Thor’s head is hanging slightly askew on his head and Steve finds him incredibly, undeniably endearing with it. He stops for a second just to stare at Thor and Steve blinks once and twice, Thor’s big smile grows bigger by the second and he pecks Steve lightly on his lips.

 

“Fucking hell” he breathes as he presses a hard hasty kiss to Thor’s lips and drags him inside stumbling over the threshold. It’s 3am and they probably should be more worried about waking up Thor’s brother but the feeling of cold skin on cold skin was far too intoxicating to mediate. 

 

Thor laughs, his strong arms around Steve’s waist, surprisingly coordinated to be this wasted. He can feel Thor’s laugh vibrate through his body. He presses himself against Thor and the bannister of the stairs. Thor tightens his grip on Steve and he basically hauls him up the stairs and into the bedroom where he throws Steve down on the bed with a heavy thunk. 

 

He lies there for a second. He stares at the ceiling while he feels his eyes grow heavier by the second. His hands move over the bedsheets, the smell of Thor fills his senses and he closes his eyes completely while he buries his face into the soft bed linen.

 

It might’ve been the dumbest decision, Steve thinks as he looks at Thor in the darkness illuminated by the full moon shining outside. He stupidly decided that getting smashed was the best way to heal and deal with the fact that Bucky didn’t show up at Tony’s. He wasn’t sure if Bucky wasn’t invited any longer or if he was just too ashamed to show his face. He texted Bucky a few times to see where he was, what he was doing but his phone remained annoyingly silent. He didn’t want to mope, but being sober made that incredibly difficult, so instead he played a lot of beer pong with Clint and Sam. 

 

After the beer pong he sat and drank with Natasha and Thor, who seemed to take vodka like it was water. It wasn’t just distracting himself from Bucky he also felt like he needed the dutch courage to break up with Thor, he knew he needed to do it tonight. But today, Thor was being far more than he’s ever been throughout their relationship, like he knew the end was coming and he was desperately trying to cling onto something that never really was. 

 

This is difficult, Thor illuminated by the moonlight, pulling Steve from the bed again and into his arms. It was Thor’s fault, this is all his fault, Steve decides as Thor mimics his moves from earlier. The flirty exchanges as they poured each other extra shots. He goes toe to toe with Steve again and starts whispering all sorts of things that sounds good to Steve’s numbed mind. Like a genie promising gold and all the fortunes in the world.

 

Thor’s hands are moving up and down Steve’s arms, caressing him softly and carefully like he’s so fragile and about to break if he doesn’t touch gently. Thor tilts his head, his eyes scan over Steve’s face like a predator levelling up his prey. He slowly moves his hand around Steve’s throat and breathes him in before he kisses him. 

 

Steve hates how weak he is for the human touch, like he’s been starved for it his entire life, which he has when it comes to being intimate. Thor’s kissing Steve’s neck agonizingly slow and tender, his hum vibrates to the core of Steve’s body and Steve can’t help but moan when he feels himself grow harder by the second.

 

“Fuck” he hisses and completely forget about what he was supposed to do when he got Thor to himself. The breakup-plan is long gone in his lust filled mind and he grabs the back of  Thor’s neck to press his lips to his, to get as close as possible. One more night wouldn’t change anything. 

 

Thor is so close, so warm and steady against Steve and it’s never been this heated and needy with Thor. Steve can feel himself going dizzy from it all and he breaks their kiss. His heart pounds in his chest from anticipation from the desperate wanton burning like a wildfire.

 

Steve looks at Thor. 

 

If the both of them were sober, this is the part where they’d break up  because the realization that there is nothing but pure lust between them is painfully evident. There’s no longing, no future, no deep emotional connection and Steve hates it. As does Thor by the looks of it.

 

Thor looks at Steve with the same hesitation that he always did, the same hesitation that if he looked in the mirror it’d be on his face too. “Steve?” he whispers but Steve pulls him in for another kiss, erasing the truth by needing this at least once more. He knows it’s ending and for some reason it makes it better. The ending, the final ascent, good things are only good things because they end. Without the end, good times are simply, time.

 

So, bravely he reaches for Thor’s waistband, fingers playing with the button. Thor doesn’t stop him and places his hand over Steve’s before he slides the hand down. Steve mutters out a silent ‘fuck’ and Thor moans into his mouth when his fingers brush against Thor’s erection. They both hiss at how hot it is, how the air has seemed to become almost impossible to breathe.

 

“Thor,” he says his name like a plea and just when he’s about to wrap his hand around Thor there’s a buzzing in the backpocket and the stupid Marimba rings out loudly in the room. “Fuck” he fumbles his hand out of Thor’s jeans and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Steve doesn’t look at the caller ID when he cuts it off, but then before he even gets to put it back into his pocket, it rings again.

 

He picks it up.

 

“It’s Bucky.”

 

Steve nearly has a heart attack. He looks at Thor who’s just standing there, a soft smile on his face as Steve listens to Bucky’s voice on the other end.

 

“You’re not at your place…” Bucky sniffles. “So, I assume you’re at Thor’s?”

 

Thor comes up to him, lips pressing and sucking at his ear, his chuckle deep like rolling thunder and he knows what he’s doing to Steve, knows how much Steve loves when Thor pays attention to his neck. Steve half moans into the phone. “Yeah I am, why?” he clears his throat and then the line goes dead. “Bucky?”

 

Thor grabs his chin and kisses him hard, his hands big and strong but still so soft on Steve’s skin. He smiles into their kisses, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and they both pant like they’ve just ran a marathon.

 

It feels wrong but so good and Steve forgets about the call. About Bucky. He wrangles out of his t-shirt and Thor does the same. The more skin that gets revealed, the more Steve just wants to submit to his horniness. A part of him feels so embarrassed that it doesn’t take much else to get him going but he just loves getting lost in the simpleness of being touched.

 

Steve doesn’t pay attention to what Thor’s saying but suddenly he’s cold and when he looks around in the room, he sees is Thor in the doorway and then he sees Bucky. Illuminated by the hallway light as if he’s descended from the heavens themselves.

 

“Bucky?” he breathes, a little confused but there’s a spark in his chest. It aches and burns of that want, the same want that has plagued him since he met him in the corridor all those months ago, that same magnetic pull hitting him with full force and he strides over to the two of them. 

 

“Can I join?” Bucky asks bluntly, no real expression on his face but when his eyes meets Steve’s - there’s an unmistakable fire in them that has Steve wondering if this is even real.

 

Thor moves over to Bucky and yanks him out of the doorway. Steve looks at Thor and before Steve knows it, Thor’s kissing Bucky and Bucky’s leaning into it.

 

“Take off your jacket and shirt” Thor says and Bucky does as he’s told, completely submitting to what Thor says.

 

Steve is frozen in place. All of his blood running down, down, down until he’s left dizzy and so hard he’s sure he’ll come on the spot. He looks at Bucky’s naked torso, his skin looks so pure and perfect and all Steve wants is to ravish him with kisses, mark him lovebites and get them in return. He wants to feel every inch of Bucky’s skin and he wants to know what he tastes like.

 

“Steve, come here” Thor says and sits down at the end of the bed. His golden hair hanging over his shoulders and Steve can't help but think that Thor truly looks like a God with his long legs stretched out in front of him. Thor with his perfect abs and flawless exterior that even puts Steve’s own to shame. 

 

Steve lets out a silent whimper as he walks over to him, Bucky following him with every step he takes. He glances over to the brunette and catches his gaze and looks over the perfect alabaster skin over his face and feels his own heart splutter frantically, like it was trying to break out of his chest using a pneumatic drill. 

 

“Yeah?” he breathes and then Thor pulls both of them down next to him.

 

Thor cradles Bucky’s face in his hand, the smaller man leaning into the touch and closing his eyes before opening them up again and smiling at Thor. 

 

Steve is mesmerized by it all. It feels and seems like Thor has them by metaphorical leash. He so desperately wants to be touched too, to be seen. Steve’s willing to do whatever Thor tells him to do at this point. Thor doesn’t cradle his face, but he smirks as he grabs Bucky’s chin and pulls the other man in for a heated kiss. Their tongues slide against each other and Bucky’s letting out tiny little mewls as Thor deepens their kiss. There’s no word to describe the scene in front of him. Steve can feel himself leaking through the grey fabric of his boxers and swears he’s never seen something this hot his entire life. Not even in porn. He listens to their moans, tortured by only having to watch. It causes his jaw to slack, his mouth is hanging open and he’s so hungry to be let in on this obscenity. 

 

When they finally do break apart, Thor runs his thumb along Steve’s lips and slowly inserts it into his mouth, pressing lightly down on his tongue for Steve to suck on it. 

 

He tastes like salt and soap, Steve thinks and closes his eyes. He hollows his cheeks and sucks on the thumb and moans around it. His knees ache on the wooden floor and he aches in his boxers, there’s not a single part of Steve in this moment that doesn’t burn but he revels in it. When Thor pulls him in for a kiss, Steve hums into it. Thor has never kissed him like this, so passionate and deep. It feels like a fire is lit inside of Steve and he kisses back with just as much force it causes Thor to break apart and chuckle. “Easy,” he tells Steve and runs a finger down the side of his face.

 

Steve looks at Bucky and Bucky looks at Thor and Thor looks at Steve. There’s something weird about this, Steve inhales deeply through his nose and takes a look around in the room. Thor’s changed his green sheets, his curtains are crimson red and there’s a coat by the door that Steve doesn’t recognize but when he looks back at Thor and Bucky he ignores it completely.

 

“You two,” Thor grins and points his finger at them, “come on.”

 

“Hey” is all Bucky says and Steve gets a strange feeling of déjà vu and an overwhelming feeling that’s oh so familiar washes over him. The closer Bucky gets the more Steve is drawn to him, the same magnetic field that’s always been there. He swallows down the feeling and everything that follows it.

 

“Hi” he says back and looks into Bucky’s eyes, the blueish greys that doesn’t blink when they’re looking at Steve’s ocean. Bucky places his hand on Steve’s bicep, not pushing him but surely pressing him down as if to keep him away from running and Steve doesn’t want to run. He wants to stay right here, on this floor with Bucky. Audience or not, Steve wants this.

 

When Steve surges forward he’s met with the familiar taste of peanuts and beer. There’s that musk that drives his senses wild and Steve kisses Bucky harder, breathes him in before he pushes Bucky down on the floor and litters him with all the kisses he can muster before he needs air. It feels like his entire world tilts and he’s let in on the biggest secret ever known. He feels so fucking alive.

 

Bucky sits up, that sharp smile and dazed gaze fixated on Steve, he looks so happy and soft yet so ravished by his want with his hair sticking out in all directions. His hair band is lying on the floor next to him.

 

In the corner of his eye, Steve can see that Thor is clearly enjoying himself. His hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it up and down as he looks at the two of them and Steve has to compose himself for a minute before he feels his mouth start to water.

 

Bucky stands up and goes towards Thor but Steve grabs his hand.

 

“What?” he asks, eyes hooded and looking at Steve with his dark, dark eyes questioning.

 

Steve reaches out to his jeans nervously. He’s never actually done this, there’s only been a few handjobs and Thor would occasionally throw in a blowjob whenever they were at it but Steve’s never given head to someone. He looks over at Thor who doesn’t look the slightest betrayed at what Steve’s about to do, it almost looks like he’s encouraging him with the smiles and the way he edges himself. Steve licks his lips and gently pulls on Bucky’s jeans. Bucky bites down on his bottom lip and pushes the jeans down.

 

“Fuck” Bucky breathes as Steve drags his boxers down and frees his hard cock. “What are you-” he hisses when Steve wraps his mouth around him and slowly starts to bob his head.

 

It’s weird at first, Steve thinks but loves how it feels. The weight of it, the taste? Yeah, Steve likes this. He goes slow at first by simply ledding slide in and a little out before he hollows and tries to take as much as he can. He swirls his tongue and it's definitely doing its magic by the way Bucky’s running a hand into his hair as if to hold on. When Bucky accidentally bucks into his mouth, Steve gags and pulls off with a string of spit hanging between them. He breathes in, smiles up at him and Bucky sinks down to the floor and kisses him like Steve’s the oxygen to his lungs.

 

Thor moans loudly beside them and pets the bed for them to both. “Come here” he says and Steve crawls up next to him and Bucky does the same but on the other side. He kisses Steve first, grabs his hand gently and slides it down to his cock. Steve smiles and wraps his fingers around it while Thor kisses him deeper and more frantically. He’s panting into Steve’s mouth and grunts before he turns to Bucky. Steve goes for the neck and lies there kissing, sucking on it, probably leaving bruises there. His own cock now leaking onto his stomach, twitching, aching for release. He can feel another hand caressing his and when he opens his eyes he sees Bucky’s been guided down there too and they’re both jerking Thor off while they’re both kissing either side of his neck. Steve feels so hot, so desperate and when he hears Bucky’s silent grunts and muffled moans he can’t help but come too followed by Thor coming into both of their hands.

 

*

 

Steve wakes up to Bucky bathing in the sunlight next to him. Somehow Bucky’s ended up in the middle, Thor’s on the edge of the bed sound asleep too. The forest green sheets covering them all and Bucky’s right there, breathing softly next to Steve. Steve can’t help himself and presses his lips to Bucky’s. Slowly moving them until Bucky’s kissing back, sliding his tongue into Steve’s mouth and they lie there kissing lazily and happily. It's so tender and slow it makes Steve heart ache with love.

 

They break apart as Steve runs a hand through Bucky’s hair to move it out if the way so he can take a better look at him. He’s so beautiful Steve thinks it should be illegal. He’s the perfect mixture of absolutely adorable and unbelievably hot and Steve feels to lucky to be looking right at someone like Bucky. 

 

Bucky’s smiling at him and Steve looks at Bucky in the dawning sun and the way the light warms him in a way that Steve’s the only one to see. “What?” Bucky asks, voice hushed and raspy by sleep.

 

It hits Steve in this moment. He knows he’s in love, the fullness returns to him like it never was really missing and what has been in front of him this entire time is staring right at him. He looks at Bucky and sees his past, his present and his future. It’s as if he can hear the cicadas chirping on a late summer’s evening, the taste of peached ice tea and the feel of long grass brushing against their intertwined hands. Bucky is the coolness in the heat, the slight breeze or a cold drink. He sees Bucky in the depths of winter, the darkest expanses of the blistering cold and the never ending inky blackness that swells in the sky. Bucky is the candle that flickers besides him. He’s the antidote to the winter of the soul, he is beside Steve through thick and thin. 

 

It’s all so real and so raw Steve has to close his eyes and hold back the tears that threatens to spill. 

 

They lie together for a little while, just looking at each other in the sunrise before Steve is lulled back to sleep by Bucky running his finger softly over Steve’s features.

 

When he opens his eyes again the room is dark. He turns on the bedside lamp and turns over in the navy blue sheets in confusion until he sees a pile of blond hair next to him and the Thor’s familiar snores fills his ears. His chest aches and there’s no doubt in his bones that he’s got to do this now, “Thor, wake up we’ve gotta talk.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos and comments are life, thankyou so much for reading!


	11. Merry Christmas, Baby

Thor’s car is small, even smaller than the shitty car Steve rocked up with on the first day of college. It’s an old school Volkswagen Beetle, with black leather interior and chipped red exterior. With all 6 ft 5” of him hunched awkwardly over the steering wheel Steve’s not sure why Thor still has it. He doesn’t even fit in the driver’s seat properly.

The car is painfully hot. Steve’s adjusted his scarf multiple times but ended up taking it off because it just got too much. It doesn’t exactly help that the car has Sam, Steve, Thor and a pile of Christmas presents that are going home with the two freshmen. In reality, they’re only going home for three weeks but because of the limited space, it looks like they’re both going on an intrepid adventure to the Andes. The only thing missing is skis.

Sam and Steve exchange strained looks over the pile of luggage in the backseat and Steve is shooting him apologetic glances sometimes because the energy is a bit awkward. It’s not just the lack of space that made the car ride awkward. It was the fact that Steve and Thor had broken up not even 18 hours earlier and the way Fleetwood Mac’s _Dreams_ crackled over the radio like a strange narration of the situation didn’t help at all.

Thor took the breakup well, even so much as to end it at the same time as Steve but the awkwardness was still palatable in the car. Being as relaxed as Thor can only take you so far when your boyfriend breaks up with you by waking you up in the middle of the night, looking particularly flustered and perturbed from a dream. Steve thought leaving the contents of the dream out of his break up speech would be better for everyone involved, because knowing Thor, it’d just give him an idea.

They pull up in front of Back Bay Station. Sam scrambles out of the car as quickly as possible, pulling out his luggage at lightning speed. He taps the driver’s window and smiles down at Thor whose face is barely visible through the strands of hair and the condensation on the windows, “Thanks Thor” he says, “and Merry Christmas!”

Thor turns to Sam and beams at him, “Same to you, my friend!”

Steve follows suit, albeit slower than Sam and pulls all his bags on to the miskempt Boston sidewalk. With a big sigh, he sets his final bag next to Sam and moves to the driver’s side as he shoves all his tickets and travel documents into his back pocket. He puts on his best, not committal white person smile and taps on the window, “See ya man, thanks for the ride” and he doesn’t mean for it to come out so lame, so emotionless and awkward but it does.

If Thor were any other person this is where he’d say ‘whatever’ and drive off, but this is Thor. The guy that winds down his window slowly, the slow movement of the mechanical motion is more irritating than it is dramatic. He sticks his hand out of the window and places it on Steve’s jumpered shoulder and pats twice, “Have a good vacation, Steven.”

Steve places his other hand over Thor’s, patting it with the same sense of ending that he’d given Steve.

Both Sam and Steve wave off Thor as he drives away from the station.

“Thank fuck that drive is over” Sam breathes out and Steve can’t help but chuckle in agreement. “It was awkward, right? It wasn’t just me?”

“No, it was” Steve says and then they head inside.

Steve’s eyes are looking at the orange lights of the destination board. He has to close one eye because he’s short sighted in his left and forgot to bring his glasses, again. Sam looks up at the black and orange board and then peers over to Steve, who’s staring intensely for their train.

Sam wants to stare until Steve says something himself, but at this rate it’s never going to happen. “I can’t get over the drive” he announces over the bustle of the station.

Steve turns his eyes slightly to meet Sam, “Me and Thor -”

“- Is it over then?” Sam interrupts.

Steve continues to look at the board, “Yep, it’s dead as a doornail.” He folds his arms in concentration and defense. _Where the fuck is their train?_

Sam lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “Coulda worked that one out for myself, it was like something had died in that car.”

Steve doesn’t comment on that, his silence and hunching confirmation enough that he agrees to the statement.

Sam mouths the phrase, ‘dead as a doornail’ and heat from his mouth creates thick clouds of steam in the cold of the train station. His eyebrows are screwed up as he turns to talk to Steve, “You talk like that. Why do you talk like that?”

Steve finally turns his head fully, “Like what?”

Sam shrugs, “Like you’re from the 1940’s?”

“I don’t talk like I’m from the 1940’s?” Steve snorts and scans the departure board again.

Sam pulls out his ticket and begins to look at the information on it before muttering out as a-matter-of-factly, “You definitely do though.”

Steve sighs, primarily because he’s just so tired, from university, from boys and from life in general, “Agree to disagree.”

Sam knows that an _agree to disagree_ from Steve is his equivalent of saying, _I’ve got nothing left to give, just bury me in the nearest ditch_. Steve can tell by the way Sam just stands there silently that he’s trying to think of another topic, but knowing Sam the way he does, means that he won’t be able to let it go, not even close.

“It was good of him to still give us a ride,” Sam utters, confirming Steve’s hypothesis.

Steve nods because he’s wholeheartedly correct, “As I said a thousand times before, Thor’s an amazing guy but we’re just not really right for _or_ into each other.”

Sam juts out his bottom lip in acquiescence, and nods before a grin blooms all over his face, “So,” he waggles his brows, “ _Is it_ me he’s into then?” Sam pokes, trying to let the conversation take a lighter turn.

Steve ignores him for a second and points to the board and then begins to gather the handles of his many bags, hoping he hasn’t missed one, “Platform’s up we should go in.”

Sam mutters something under his breath and does the same, swinging his leather duffle over his shoulder, narrowly missing Steve who seemed to have the grip of a gorilla around his bags.

“Are you actually into him?” Steve asks as he tosses a couple of bags over the turnstile. He puts his ticket through the slot and the gate opens with a jolt, he’s pretty sure that if his fingers had been on the other sides of the gate he’d have lost them.

Sam laughs and starts to fumble with his own tickets, “No _no_ , he’s just really hot and it would be a mega compliment if he was.” Sam begins to push his way into the gate, “I’m just very secure in my masculinity pal.”

Sam fumbles with the ticket in his full hands, “Who is it then? The one he’s into?” he drops the ticket and it goes fluttering down into the neighbouring gate, “Aw fuck!”

A girl about their own age, with a purple knitted hat and matching mittens, hands Sam the ticket with a meek smile.

He mutters a quick “Thank you” to the girl and carries on struggling.

Steve groans from the other side of the gate and holds out his hand, “Give those to me and then do the ticket.”

Sam stuffs the bags into Steve’s hand before putting the ticket through the mechanism in one swift movement.

The gate whirrs, “Who is-” and snaps open, giving Sam a small fright even though he’s witnessed it a thousand times before.

Steve hands the bags back to Sam and begins picking up all the bags he’d tossed over the gate. He’d been lucky to only toss the ones filled with clothes and books rather than the ones filled with tiny bottles of acrylic paint and the Christmas gifts.

He lets out a breath as he picks up the last bag, “This girl, Val.”

Sam looks at him a little confused.

Steve speeds ahead to their platform. He looks over his shoulder momentarily, “Her name isn’t actually Val but she has this nickname ‘Valkyrie’, y’know from norse mythology” he tries to explain.

Sam doesn’t look less confused but he does look more exasperated as he hightails after Steve through the train station.

Steve signals with his head to their platform, “Platform 7!”

They both land on the escalator, Steve is careful to not let his dragging bags get caught in the moving steps. As a child, his laces would always threaten to get stuck in them. He’s had a few nightmares where they do get stuck and he’s sucked underneath like a spider up a vacuum.

Sam takes a sigh of relief and thanks for the slight respite in their running, “Valkyrie who?”

Steve looks up at him from his step, nose and cheeks bright red from the running and the cold, “The Valkyrie, like the Amazonians, same ballpark.”

Sam clicks his tongue in recognition, “Aaaah.”

Steve almost sprints down platform 7, trying to figure out the best spot to get on the train. Sam tried to keep up with him but it’s easier to let him tire himself out and meet him when he’s done than chase him around.

Sam sets his bags down next to Steve, who looks undeniably unphased by this whole running around ordeal.

“I don’t think anyone knows her real name, maybe Thor does?” Steve says whilst checking the time on the large station clock.

“Who is she again” Sam wheezes, still not entirely caught up.

“Y’know the girl at the gym with the,” Steve flexes his right arm and his bicep bulges through the sweater. He should probably get some bigger sweaters but the looks on the face of the girl with the purple hat and her friend with a green scarf seem to protest otherwise.

He stops flexing and turns away with shy embarrassment.

A wave of realisation hits Sam, “She the scary one?”

Steve shakes his arm and then rubs his hands together, “Yep.”

“I get it” Sam peers off into the distance in contemplation before a grin spreads on his face again, “I mean _I get it._ ”

Steve nods and stuffs his hands in his jean pockets for warmth, “She’s hot in a ‘ _owns a different strap on for everyday of the week hot_ ’ way,” he remarks, watching Sam’s face turn in shock has he goes on, “I definitely wouldn’t say no.” Sam’s mouth hangs open like Steve had propped it open with chopsticks.

“Steve!” Sam smacks the side of Steve’s arm, still clearly unsure on what to make of this information.

Suddenly the train comes grinding up to the platform, screeching as it breaks to slow down.

Steve shrugs as he picks his bags up again, not breaking eye contact with Sam. “What?” he pauses, “Peggy was exactly the same” he adds with a shrug.

At this point Sam looks just about ready to start filming Steve, as if he’d just made history by freeing a thousand troops from behind enemy lines. He splutters, stammers and says, “You didn’t.”

Steve waits for the hoards of passengers getting off at Boston to depart from the train before he leans over and whispers “You’ll never know,” to Sam who is standing next to Steve in the line, absolutely dumbfounded. Steve hops onto the train and begins shoving his bags of clothes and less valuable stuff into the storage compartment. 

He turns back to Sam who’s just managed to board the train. Sam proceeds to plea over the head of the over passengers, “Steve you have to tell me!”

Steve is fully smirking by this point, even though his entire face is red, he makes a noise of contemplation, as if he’s considering what Sam’s asking, before hastily saying “I don’t” with a shit eating grin.

“Steve, you little shit,” Sam pokes into Steve’s chest before Steve lets out a deep laugh. Sam shoves his backpack into the overhead storage, before jibing, “Anyway, I thought you weren’t into girls any more.”

Steve whips his head around so quickly he could have been an owl in a former life and stutters out “I-”

Sam waves Steve down and pats him on the shoulder, “I’m just messing with you.”

Steve cocks his eyebrow befor turning and eying up the empty red seats in front of them, “Guess we’re even then.”

“I guess,” Sam mumbles, he’s left more dissatisfied than someone who’s just watched Chopped whilst eating instant ramen. Sam grumbles, “Not even close to even, buddy” under his breath.

Steve turns to Sam again and points at his ticket,“What’s your seat?”

Sam looks at his ticket, “C38.”

“Cool, I’m C39!”

They both slump in their respective seats. Luckily they have a table to themselves and Steve sets out his tablet and stylus. Sam sets out his book and his cornucopia of snacks.

Steve opens a bag of chips and asks, mouth full, “Anyway what about you? Darcy’s friend Carol is cute.” If Steve hadn’t been so into someone else, maybe he’d started talking to her, asked her out perhaps, she’s pretty and badass.

They can feel the train jolt away from the station and the engine purrs and vibrates under their seats.

Sam wants to laugh but he doesn’t, Steve can see it in the way his eyebrows move up way too quickly and the way his eyes widen like he’s just been smacked with a snowball. He shakes his head and sticks his hand into Steve’s chips, “No, not Carol. She is most definitely into girls, just girls.”

“How’d you know that?” Steve crunches.

Sam shakes his head and rolls his eyes, he even looks around the carriage to see if there was anyone else around to corroborate him, “Come on, Steve.”

Steve shrugs and takes another chip.

Sam leans in against the table and says “She’s been in the military” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well I wanted to go into the military,” Steve says clearly realising that it wasn’t helping.

Sam looks at him through narrow brown eyes and Steve recedes, “Point taken.”

Sam takes another chip from Steve’s bag, “I’m just joking, Darcy told me, my gaydar isn’t that good.”

Steve makes a little ‘oh’ sound between chips, before asking, “Did you ever suspect anything with me though?”

Suddenly a middle aged man wearing a thick mustache and a train conductor's uniform comes into view, “Tickets boys.”

They both scrabble to get their trappings together, both of them trying to prove that they’d bought their seat before the other.

The mustached man didn’t seem to care at all as he took both the tickets and glanced over them.

“Penn Station?” he asks numbly, like his soul had died along with the fall leaves.

“Yep,” Steve nods.

He doesn’t react at all and mutters “All good here, enjoy the journey,” like he’s reading off a script.

He hands Sam the tickets, “Thanks.”

“Like you wanting to fuck guys?” Sam announces, backtracking to their previous conversation.

Steve hisses in embarrassment momentarily, but nobody else seems to care at all.

Sam pops the final chip into his mouth and states, “It’s 2018, Steve.” He leans back into his seat and fashions his scarf into a pillow against the window. “Not really to be honest,” he lays his head against it and closes his eyes, “Also all the guys we knew were ugly assholes so like, I would have never let that fly.”

Steve grimances and laughs, “Oh my god, you’re so right. Could you imagine anyone ever having a thing for Rumlow?”

Sam shudders in his seat, “Don’t.”

Suddenly, Steve’s phone buzzes on the table and Steve licks his fingers clean before picking up the phone.

“Who is it?” Sam asks but Steve ignores him.

It’s Bucky.

Bucky: _you were right, my nose isn’t broken_

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _Picture attachment_

The photo is of Bucky grinning in the mirror, with bruised eyes but with a nose that is annoyingly straight. Another message comes through before Steve can respond.

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _was worried i was gonna end up with a nose like yours lol_

Steve types out the message ‘ _how dare you_ ’ but not before Bucky responds again. Seems like Bucky has no problems double texting people.

Bucky: _so_

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _i didn’t say thanks properly for the other night and i’m sorry that i didn’t respond to you during the party, idk i just felt weird_

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _forgive me?_

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _if you don’t respond i wont send you a picture of my dog_

Steve scrabbles with his phone to get a message out before the next one comes in.

Steve: _show me the goods_

Bucky: _Picture attachment_

It’s a photo of Bucky posing awkwardly yet adoringly next to a giant Bernese Mountain Dog. Steve’s heart swells in his chest. He’s worried that he’s suddenly blown up like a balloon and everyone will start looking at him.

Steve: _next time crop yourself out of the photo_

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _you’re nasty over texts_

Steve bites his lip in response, and wonders how flirty he can go.

Steve: _is that a challenge?_

There’s a lull, but only for a second.

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _we can make it one_

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _i’d like to see you before you leave for christmas, are you free tonight? I want to repay you for the other night_

Steve’s sure that he’s the size of a hot air balloon right now and will need to be deflated and then rolled off the train.

Steve: _that sounds ominous_

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _i’m serious_

Steve frowns through the disappointment and responds.

Steve: _i just left to go home_

He snaps a picture of the snoozing Sam to send to Bucky. He’s pressed up against the window and his breath steams it every time he breathes.

Steve: _Picture attachment_

_Buzz Buzz_

Bucky: _shame_

Suddenly, Sam clears his throat without opening his eyes and drawls, “If you don’t turn your phone on silent I will throw it and then _you_ out of the window.”

 

*

 

It’s 9:21 am on Christmas morning in the Rogers household. Steve is layered in checkered blue pajamas while he fusses in the kitchen making another pot of coffee for is mother and grandpa. If someone saw him right now; hair sticking up in every direction, loose t-shirt and baggy pajama pants, they’d probably see him for who he really is. A soft mess.

His mother made him cut his hair when he got home with the comment; “You’ve been neglecting yourself!” she had touched his bearded face and ran her fingers through his hair. She completely oversaw the fact that he’s gotten bigger and stronger. His grandpa didn’t say anything, he was just smiling and gesturing for Steve to come over and give him a hug. “You looked like a dog on the loose!” she’d commented further.

Steve agreed to at least trim the hair and shave for the holidays. But he liked it with a bit of length.

Sarah Rogers is in the living room with her father, listening to the radio. A cover of a Paul McCartney Christmas song is playing lightly in the background. Conor Rogers is sitting in his wheelchair, toying a magazine in his hands, he mumbles something to his daughter in his still thick Irish accent, which makes her throw her head back in laughter. Steve observes the crinkles by his eyes and how delighted his grandpa gets when Sarah laughs like that.

Steve moves back into the living room, with three mugs between his large hands. One mug is scribbled with ‘ _Mother of the Yer_ ’, a spelling mistake Steve did in elementary school when they made Christmas presents one year. There’s one green mug with a cat’s face on it containing decaf for Conor. His grandfather isn’t supposed to have caffeine, so it’s a special decaf brew just for him. Steve’s mug has a faded painting by Munch on it.

“Thank you, Steve” Sarah kisses her son’s head as he sits down by her feet.

Steve crawls forward and distributes the neatly wrapped presents from under the tree to Sarah and Conor. He spent way too long wrapping the gifts up, but forever the perfectionist he wanted the gifts to look nice.

“These ones are from me,” he hands over a soft parcel and two hard parcels over to his mom. “I hope you like them, my friend Natasha helped me pick them out.”

Sarah peaks up at that, “Natasha?” she asks, her voice going higher than natural and her eyebrows too.

“Mom, no” Steve is quick to dismiss what she’s thinking and laughs shaking his head.

She unwraps the holly printed paper and holds up the powder blue cashmere sweater in the soft morning light. She cocks her head and smiles, “Your friend has good taste, thanks honey.”

“No problem, mom” Steve smiles up at his mom and feels so warm and soft just watching his family sitting around him. It feels achingly nice and a wonderful contentment washes over him that he hasn’t felt in weeks. “The other two are just from me” he points out when she starts to unwrap the rest of her gifts.

She opens up a restaurant directory for New York and laughs, deep and genuine before she hits the back of his head with a pillow, “One bad dinner! You’ll never let me live will you Steve!”

“The chicken still had feathers!” Steve barks while his mom hit’s his broad shoulders with the book, the sound rattles through the room.

“Okay Mr Google reviews!” she chortles, “We’ll only listen to you next time.”

“No, no! Mom its a joke! Open the last one!” he’s laughing too, his muscles aching and he has to wipe away the tears of laughter. “Open it!”

She eyes him but eventually she opens the parcel and shoots her son a look of disbelief and coos when she holds the gift. It’s a beautiful silver watch. “Oh Steve, you shouldn’t have” she looks at it, can’t take her eyes of it. “How much did it cost you?”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at that but of course she would worry about that. “It was vintage, just don’t worry about it” he waves it off and smiles, “It looks alot like Grandma’s right?”

“It does” she still hasn’t taken her eyes off it. “Look dad!” she holds it out to Conor who reaches over.

His face lights up brighter than the Christmas tree in front of them, “It’s Annie’s watch!” he croaks and his smile is so wide Steve’s afraid his teeth might fall out for a second.

“It is!” Sarah cries.

“I remember when I bought that watch, it was for our 10th wedding anniversary, even before your mom was born…” Conor tells Steve and puts the watch onto his daughters wrist.

Sarah turns to her son, “Thank you, honey” she hugs him from behind and drapes herself over his shoulders,“Thank you, this is the best christmas gift I could have ever received!”

 

*

 

Later that day, after the dinner, Steve wanders into the kitchen to help his mom with the washing up. She tells him to get out and sit with the guests but he’s just missed her so much so he wants to help her out, he wants to be with her.

As the plates clatter together one by one, Steve picks them up and wipes them dry. His mother is smiling softly from time to time, shooting her son soft glances. In the background they can hear the Wilsons talking to Conor.

Steve eyes the painting with a big red bow around it by the corner of the basement door. He is about to clear his throat when his phone buzzes.

Bucky: _happy christmas punk_

Steve smiles to himself, pockets the phone and helps his mom finish up the dishes. After that, he spends way too long drawing a santa hat and a big fake grin on a press tour photo of Johnny Rotten and the rest of the Sex Pistols and sends the picture to Bucky.

Steve: _Picture attachment_

The phone vibrates in his hand before he can put it away again.

Bucky: _ha ha. Happy christmas, punk._

Bucky _:You dont need to know how long i spent trying to make that comma underlined or something._

Steve: _;)_

Steve: _happy christmas, jerk_

He doesn’t notice or hear that his mother is standing in front of him, “Are you just going to stand there or are you-”

Steve jumps in front of his mom and holds a hand to his head, “Don’t scare me like that!” he breathes and she rolls her eyes at him.

“Don’t be standing there smiling like an idiot to yourself. Pay attention to the guests and us!” she jokes and swats his arm lightly.

He goes to pick up the painting and takes a deep breath, “Mom, I have something else for you.”

“Steve” she drags his name and the worry on her face breaks his heart, “Sweetie no, you’ve spent enough money already! You’re spoiling me!”

“It didn’t cost anything, I swear!” he hands her the rolled up painting of her dad and watches as she holds her breath, hand covering her red tinted lips and she’s clearly trying not to cry when she looks at the painting.

“Oh honey, it beautiful” she whispers and falls into her sons arms for a hug.

“You th-think so?” he stunned, a bit surprised by her emotional reaction.

She sniffles and nods before looking at the painting again. She goes silent again before she says softly, “Goodness you look just like him.”

“I do?”

“Hang on” she puts down the painting and comes back with a leather bound photo albumin her hands. She opens it and the spine cracks, she flicks through a few pages and then points softly to a grainy black and white image of a handsome man in uniform, “This photo, it’s from when he served in the second world war.”

Steve gapes at the similarity, “Fuck.”

She scowls at him, “Language, Steven!”

“Sorry!” he covers his mouth and looks back at the photo in the book which could very well be a photo of him, “How old was he in this?”

“A little older than you I think, nineteen maybe? He was drafted just before the war ended.”

“Shit” he says and she slaps the back of his head lightly. “Sorry.”

“You see that watch,” she points to Conor’s watch in the photo next to the portrait, “It had a picture of your grandma in it, he took it with him everywhere” her sad is bittersweet when she says it. “I think we still have it somewhere, I just need to check through the boxes from his house.”

After a bit of searching through old boxes she finds the watch and the photo of Steve’s grandma is still in there.

“She’s beautiful” he says and sees some similarity between her and his mother. “You’ve got her nose.”

Sarah sighs fondly, “She was a wonderful mom, a strong and brilliant woman. Smart too. Dad married her the day he came back from the war. Then came your aunts and uncle and then finally me.”

Steve hasn’t really talked much to his aunts or his one uncle, there was some misunderstandings way back before he was born but he knows his mom misses them, “I wish I could have known him better, before the illness y’know?” he says to steer away from the topic of her siblings.

“Me too” she says and grabs his shoulder to pull herself in for a hug. In barely a whisper she says, “Everytime I look at you I see him, the two best men in the world.”

“Mom.”

“I just want you to get everything you deserve. Happiness, a woman who loves you-”

“Mom, it’s Christmas, we don’t have tears scheduled until after the Wilsons leave. Just after they leave, just before we start watching a movie!” he complains and wipes at his eyes. God, he never knew he was so sensitive. Scratch that, he cried at a dog food commercial once when he was alone.

Sarah laughs and Steve can feel it in his bones, this is it, he’s going to tell her.

“Mom, I think I’ve found someone” he says, the words stumbling out of his mouth and she looks at him, face lighting up with curiosity and for a brief second he worries he’ll break her heart or dreams, maybe both.

“What’s she like? Can I see a picture? Are you two being safe?” she adds and then “Has Sam met her?”

Steve hangs his head and chuckles trying to prolong his confession, “Slow down, alright?”

“I just thought it’d be a long time after Peggy!” she says. “Well, Steven, tell me about her!”

Steve’s quiet for a moment, avoiding his mother’s intense curious expression and he thinks about Bucky and everything he likes and adores about him and, “Mom, she’s a he.” She doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t dare look at her. “He’s called James,” Steve knows how much Bucky doesn’t like being called James so he adds, “Well, he goes by Bucky.”

Sarah makes a noise, a mixture between a snort and a laugh, “Bucky? What kinda name is that?” she asks.

“I know” Steve smiles. “He doesn’t like James.”

She doesn’t say anything but the simple gesture of her placing a resting hand on his forearm is enough for Steve to face his mother’s reaction.

“So, any thoughts on the whole, _‘Hey, mom! I’m bisexual’_ thing?” he asks nervously and her thoughtful expression goes serious and worried. “I kno-”

She shushes him and wraps her tiny hands around his big ones. “Steve, listen to me. You can be with whoever you want. If you find a lovely lady or a handsome fella, I just want you to be happy and if you find someone worthy of your love, then I’m happy too.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath as he feels so incredibly lucky to have such a fantastic woman in his life. “Thank you” he hugs her and buries his face into the crook of her neck. Her old familiar perfume reminding him of everything good in his life and he just feels so overwhelmed with gratefulness and love.

“But Bucky?” she frowns. “I can’t be dealing with that. When you get married I’m calling him James.”

“Mom!” Steve exclaims and she laughs too. “By the way,” he starts and looks out to the dining area and sees that they’ve all moved to the couch and coffee table, “Sam doesn’t know yet.”

Sarah follows his gaze as they both look at the Wilsons, “About you being into fellas?”

“He knows about that. He just did the usual where he did his _‘I’d follow you into the heart of darkness_ ’ speech and then riled me about something else entirely.”

“So he doesn’t know about James?”

“Nope” Steve pops the ‘p’ and sighs as he looks out at his friend laughing at something his grandpa said.

“I love secrets” his mother snickers and kisses his temple hard, proud and loving.

He hugs her tight, “I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, my wonderful boy.”

 

*

 

On New Year’s Eve, Steve and Sam wanted to do something quiet just the two of them so they left their families’ joint party and now they’re sitting in Steve’s basement in a blanket fort made for grown up children.

They’ve been talking about life for a couple of hours now, reminiscing about old times and on countless occasions Sam’s been saying stuff like, “Oh wait, maybe you actually had a thing for that one kid back in the day? What about Hall?” and Steve’s had to shut him up by throwing candy at him.

“I’m really proud of you though,” Sam says all of a sudden and the entire energy changes to something heavier and more serious, “Like to see how far you’ve come with yourself and that you’ve… I don’t know, found yourself? I can see how you’ve changed, Steve. I can see that you’re better.”

“Sam-” Steve chuckles a little drunkenly but Sam holds up a hand.

“No, I’ve been by your side since you first fell face flat in front of me and scrubbed your knees up!” they both laugh at that because they were both babies at that point. But Sam collects himself again, his words a bit slurred but they still make Steve appreciate him all together, “We didn’t know what words were back then, but I’m so lucky to have you as my best friend, as a _brother_ , and I’ll be here until we’re both six feet down into the ground. I’m just so damn proud of you, Steve. For never giving into the bullies, for making your life your own and staying true to yourself.”

“Where’s this all coming from?” Steve asks a bit nervously as he takes another swing of his beer. “When did Sam Wilson go all soft and emotional?”

“I mean it, man” Sam looks him dead in the eye and Steve sighs deeply.

He’s not always stayed true to himself, he’s done loads of dumb shit because he thought if everyone else was doing then so should he, but Steve knows what Sam means. When he decided he wanted to get stronger and bigger he went for it. He didn’t want to wake up every morning knowing that he could break at any moment. He doubled his 100lbs over the years and Sam has never stopped to cheer him on.“I’m not always true to myself, y’know that” he starts, “but it’s helped having you on my team, no matter how dumb, crazy or lame - you’ve been there through thick and thin and I love you for that, Sam. You’re the greatest friend I’ll ever have and I’m sure of it.”

Sam punches his shoulder lamely and shakes his head, “I just hope you can cut out that lame fiber cereal. It’s so expensive!” he pretends complain.

“It’s not that expensive!” Steve says exasperated. “Anyway, thank you for being by my side.”

“Same to you, Rogers” Sam salutes him.

Steve sits there in their now comfortable silence as Sufjan’s sad songs play silently in the background. It’s not sad for them and his music is rather soothing in the dim light of their fort and Steve is feeling so incredible lucky to have his tiny family and good friend. He takes a deep breath and smiles to himself, “Rogers and Wilson, Wilson and Rogers.”

“You can stop now” Sam snorts and stretches out his legs, knocking a few unopened beers over. “It’s a quiet New Year’s Eve. Only a girl could ever make this tradition end.”

Steve finishes his beer and adds, “Or a guy.”

Sam chuckles, “Whatever.”

There’s a few minutes of that good silence before Steve got to ask, “Do you find it weird?” A little part of him still finds it a bit weird. Like the worlds prehistoric and repressed image of how love should be, still indoctrinated within him. He remembers boys holding hands being ripped apart from each other and their own parents would tell them off for being disgusting and that one simply did not hold another boy’s hand. When girls did it was fine, it still is and Steve is still pissed that when boys to it it’s frowned upon. Steve’s held Sam’s hand on multiple occasions but he’s never been attracted to his friend, nor has his mother or grandpa ever been cruel about Steve holding his friend’s hand. But if he thinks about the few times he’s held Thor’s hand or the times he’s wanted to hold Bucky’s he feels a bit weird, afraid that someone would comment on it. When he dares to think about the future, he still feels weird when he pictures himself next to a man but he also feels relieved and excited because he’s finally been open and honest about it.

“You being bi?” Sam doesn’t look at Steve, he’s way too busy trying to open the next bottle.

Steve hums and feels a little nervous.

“Nah. Like, if you’re happy with a guy then you’re happy. Which is honestly all that matters. I’m chill, dude. You know me” Sam smiles and hands Steve a bottle. “Open it yourself.”

“Yeah,” Steve says as he accepts the next beer, “I know you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome” Sam grins and is completely oblivious that Steve thanked him for being who he is.

_Buzz buzz_

Steve check his phone and frowns at the bright display that shows that the time is 11:15pm and that Bucky’s sent him a message. His face lights up and Sam snorts next to him.

“Who’s that? Thor wanting you back?” Sam jokes unapologetically.

“Asshole and it’s nobody” Steve says and opens the message.

Bucky: _does captain america have some sorta signal? batman got the bat signal. I need captain america right now._

Steve texts him back, smile plastered to his face.

Steve: _i don’t know, does he?_

“Don’t.” Sam looks at him like he can read his mind.

Steve groans because he thinks it's probably time he told someone other than Thor about Bucky. They’d spoken during the break and he told Thor that he might have feelings for Bucky and Thor told him that it didn’t come as a shock to him. Thor had been speaking to Val a lot during the break. Steve told him to go for it, they obviously like each other. Steve still feels a certain sadness about ending it with Thor and he’s feeling protective over him but he knew it was the right thing to do. Thor considers himself Steve’s friend and so does Steve. Thor also encouraged Steve to tell Sam.

“It’s Barnes,” he spits it out, finally.

Sam makes a little whiny giggly noise and Steve shoots him a look and mimics his friend who completely ignores Steve’s childlike behavior. Sam holds his hands up, “I don’t want to say I told you so.”

“I’m dreading that you’re gonna say it anyway?” he sighs and prepares himself.

He doesn’t say it and Steve opens one eye to look at Sam who’s just pointing at Steve’s hand where his phone is quietly buzzing and not so subtly showing a photo of Bucky with his dog.

“You have a photo as his caller ID? Your mom doesn’t even have one, dude. You’re in fucking love, aren’t you?” Sam laughs out loud.

Steve looks at him slacked jawed and can’t believe Bucky’s actually calling him. “Should I answer it?” he asks bewildered.

Sam quirks a brow like he can’t believe Steve, “You’re a moron?”

Steve fumbles with the phone and answers, “Bucky, hey. Hold up, I’m just gonna-” he stumbles out of the fort and slips into his slippers, “I’m just gonna go outside. Wait-” he groan and grunts to get the old slider door open but eventually he manages to get out into the cold December soon to be January air and sighs. “Hey” he smiles as if Bucky’s there and puts the phone on speaker before he puts it on the garden wall so he can shove his hands into his pockets.

“Hey, Bucky!” Sam bellows from the door, “Ask Steve why his ex girlfriend is called ‘ _Peggy_ ’ Carter!”

“Sam! Fuck off!”

Bucky chuckles on the other end, “Bye Sam! Happy New Years!”

Steve turns away from Sam and looks out into the pitch black darkness of his garden and sits down onto the cold patio. “It’s almost midnight why are you talking to me?” he can hear the faint sound of music in the background of wherever Bucky is and someone whooping loudly.

“You picked up, didn’t you?” Bucky sniffles again but Steve can hear his smile.

“Yeah I suppose I did. Are you having a cold?” he asks.

Bucky completely ignores his question and says, “It’s crazy inside. There’s only so much drunk singing I can take and did you know that American Pie is eight minutes long? And did you know my dad knows every single word to it? It’s too much, Steve. Too much.”

Steve laughs, “I take it you and Tony sorted things out after Mr Stark and your dad…”

“Ah,” Bucky inhales and laughs, “Tony needs time. But he’ll be fine” he hums, “He’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad” Steve crawls a in on himself as the cold slithers itself around him like an uncomfortable blanket. He thinks back to all the times Bucky was absent from the group and feels sad that he can’t get those moments back, “It felt weird not having you around.”

Steve can hear Bucky’s breath hitch a little.

“It felt weird not being around” he says after a moment. Suddenly they’re interrupted by loud laughter and someone blasting the music in the background. Wonderful Christmastime is being sung by what must be Bucky’s entire family. He clears his throat and excuses himself. There’s a bit of rummaging and then there’s a door being shut. “How’s your family?” Bucky asks and Steve can hear the shuffle of sheets, “How’s your Grandpa?”

“He’s been doing okay recently, better than before” Steve smiles and thinks back to earlier when they played chess and his grandpa had beaten him to dust. “He smiles a lot.”

“It’s probably because you’re around, familiarity and stuff.” Bucky is moving around, his voice muffled by clothes hair, who knows, “I was doing some research and I read that doing stuff he did when he was younger is good for like jogging the memory and listening to old music and stuff.”

“Ah don’t say that, I feel guilty enough not being around enough as is” he inhales the cold air and throws a quick glance over his shoulder to see what Sam’s doing. He’s dancing alone in the basement using his bottle as a microphone. He thinks about all the memories from this house, everything that his grandpa and his mother has taught and supported him with and on. “I feel like I should stay, help my mom out y’know?”

“You’ve got to do what’s best for you Steve but I’m pretty sure that your grandpa would want you to be happy by being at university doing your depressing artwork,” Bucky chuckles, no it's more like a giggle and Steve smiles, “Plus, I-we will miss you too much.”

Steve’s smile widens at that. “You’re right, as much as I hate to admit it” he runs a hand through his hair and gets up from the ground. “Maybe I’ll just try some Billie Holiday instead?”

“Billie Holiday, I guess the depressing shit runs in the family” Bucky snorts loudly and curses as he clearly drops or kicks against something.

“D’ya know what? I might not come back next semester.”

“You’ve made me a promise!” Bucky exclaims, “You're coming back to me” he laughs. “Wouldn't be like you to go back on your word.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “I feel you've got the wrong impression of me, Buck.”

“Oh I think I know you pretty well, Steve” Bucky says with a hint of softness to his voice.

“No! I'm really upset!” he pouts and flails with his arms to no one.

“So, what superpower would you have? Shape shifting would be cool.”

“At least react to how upset I'm pretending to be!” Steve feels ridiculous, the butterflies only multiplying when Bucky reprociates the laughter.

“Fuck off” he shakes his head and groans.

“Also, time travel would solve so many problems!”

Steve wants to actually talk to Bucky so he decides to be the one changing the topic this time. “So, other than listening to your dad singing what else have you been up to over the holidays?”

“Well, usually we go skiing over Christmas but this year we stayed at home. It’s been weird and different, not in a bad way though. I think it was better for my dad to just be somewhere familiar after what happened” Bucky goes quiet. “I don’t know.”

“What happened with your dad and Mr. Stark?”

“Howard offered my dad the job back, probably after realising that nobody else was gonna put up with his shit. I think he’s in the mob, or _is_ the mob I don’t know. They’re a weird family,”there’s a nervous chuckle and a sniffle again followed by a sneeze.

“Bless you.”

“Thank you, Steve” he says sweetly. “Anyway! That brings us to here; me at the Stark’s place on New Years with our families and Tony’s new girlfriend, Pepper.”

“Girlfriend?” Steve hasn’t ever thought about Tony having someone special, or someone ever wanting to put up with him. Although he was a good guy, he suddenly feels a pang of guilt swell in his chest. Tony is an egotistical ass but he's got a good heart.

“Two weeks ago Tony was using me and Thor as girl bait for his party. She must be the one?” Steve asks with disbelief and he can hear Bucky’s shrug. “Ah, that’s good right?”

Bucky hums, “They’ve been friends for a lifetime, I guess they finally got their shit together and got together.”

“I’m happy for him,” Steve at least thinks he is.

“Me too” Bucky sighs. “He can be a shit sometimes but I’m happy for him too. Anyway, Rogers. Hows Wilson? Hows your mom?”

“Sam’s good, he got his exam results through a few days back and absolutely smashed them!” Steve says proudly. “My mom is good, great actually, considering everything.”

“Considering what? Your grandpa?” there’s a faint knock in the background and Steve tries to listen to what’s being said but he only hears Bucky’s muffled _‘Be right there.’_

“Yes, that…” he takes a deep breath, “And I came out to her.”

“Oh Jesus, what?” Bucky says a bit shocked as if he didn’t quite catch what Steve just said. “Come out as what exactly?”

“Bi.” Steve’s heart is hammering in his chest, his body tingling from the cold and the alcohol still lowkey buzzing in his system. He shakes his hands and looks back inside. He’s contemplating if he should get his coat or another drink.

“Interesting.” Bucky makes a hard stop at the end of the word.

“I’m pretty sure you knew that alread-”

“I did,” Bucky says, voice low, “I do, I just wanted to check.”

Suddenly there’s a massive explosion of colors in the sky above Steve and Sam is sprinting out the door, throwing himself at Steve while pointing up at the dark sky littered with what looks like glitter gold and fire. The fireworks illuminate the New York buildings from a distance. For a second, between the blasts, there's a deep stillness within Steve. He inhales the smoke and the cold December air.

He doesn't know if everything is going to be okay, but for now at least, it is.

“Steve?” Bucky's voice comes through lightly from the phone, still causing Steve to jump.

“Oh shit!” Steve nearly drops his phone but is quick to fumble it back to his ear. “Calm down, Sam. There’s still five minutes left!”

“I don’t care, look at it!” Sam shouts over the loud booms.

“You being shot at too?” Bucky asks and everything is so loud now.

Steve laughs but feels a fondness mixed with happiness blossom in his chest, “Happy new year's, Buck” he nearly shouts into the phone as Sam whoops loudly next to him.

“Happy new year’s, man” Bucky says before saying, “Steve,” he breathes, the vowels drippingin forlorn longing.

“What?” Steve turns away from everything that’s happening but catches a firework matching the burning fire within him.

Bucky goes to talk, Steve can hear the crack as his mouth opens. But Bucky pauses and something changes, resets even.

“So, why did they call her Peggy?” he asks, his voice dipping dangerously low.

Steve shakes his head and closes his eyes. He tries to think of something smooth to say in response but his mind is just too caught off guard, so he settles for giggling out, “Take a wild guess, James.”


	12. New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's an extra long chapter for you babes

The first awakening of January starts with a large amount of vibration from Bucky’s phone and he really can’t really be bothered to answer Tony’s seventh call at eight in the morning, especially when he only got to bed two hours ago. When the buzzing stops and the messages start to roll in, Bucky’s curiosity and anger  get the better of him and rolls around in his sheets before his hand grabs his phone. He squints at the bright screen and groans at the raging headache he has from all the scotch and vodka still in his system.

 

Unknown Number:  _ didn’t know you had it in you Barnes. _

 

Unknown Number:  _ Media attachment _

 

Steve:  _ i can’t sleep _

 

Tony:  _ Why did I just receive this video from Max? Did you know that someone filmed you? How fucking wasted were you to kiss a guy? Wait no practically dry fuck a guy on my sofa? _

 

Tony:  _ Bucky? _

 

Tony:  _ Answer my fucking calls you idiot _

 

He pauses and blinks for a while. He feels like all of his cerebral fluid has drained and his brain is as dry as his mouth. He tries to piece together what happened last night. He can remember parts, his dad singing, his neighbour pouring them shots, Pepper and _ Steve _ . Oh god he drunk called Steve. He tries to work forward until after Steve, but his mind won’t let him. His hungover brain is absolutely fixated on the soft tone of Steve’s voice oozing from his phone speaker like Jack and Coke. After Steve it’s all blurry, like someone took all of his memories from last night and put them in a blender and accidently left the lid off causing it to splatter all over the ceiling.  _ Max? Kissing a guy? _ Bucky frowns and puts down his phone again. He’s suddenly of the opinion of that if he never looks at the video, it doesn’t exist and it never happened. But he can feel the file burn like thermite through the phone, he’s terrified it’ll set a light, it doesn’t even get to a minute before fear has it tight grip around his heart and he looks at the video Max sent him.

 

He’s sprawled out on cream the couch in the Stark’s pool house, there’s people dancing sloppily around them, the person filming is not steady at their hand at all but then suddenly the video stops shaking, pans out slightly and Max comes into view. Bucky is pretty much lead in his lap and Max is playing with Bucky’s hair. Max is a random guy from one Tony’s classes who happens to live in their neighbourhood. Bucky has seen him in the gym a few times with the rest of the weightlifting team, he’s stocky and broad, rather strange for a Korean guy. He’s hot and Bucky is clearly enjoying the attention and Max is clearly enjoying the company of Bucky being so, so close. He looks at him hazily and Bucky grins back, shifting in his lap. Then, he leans down and kisses Bucky. Which he obviously likes by the way he sits up straighter and grabs a hold of Max’s face. Bucky then pulls Max down, deeper into the sofa and between his knees. A small ‘ _ This is hot _ ’ can be heard from someone nearby the cameraperson as Bucky bucks his hips up into Max and Max begins to kiss at Bucky’s neck. Suddenly there’s a jeer and Max looks up and towards the camera. The video stops abruptly. 

 

“Fuck,” he breathes out and refrains from watching the video again. He was wasted, so fucking wasted and so emotionally screwed after having talked to Steve. “Fuck!” he gets out of bed and pulls his shirt on. The memories from last night after midnight is so blurry and scattered in his brain it causes him to trip over his shoes and other clothes on the floor. He stumbles out into the massive hallway of rooms and tries to breathe. Bucky’s always felt lost in this house with it’s big walls and endless halls, not much less today. Once he gets down into the living room he starts pacing as if that’ll help clear his existential anxiety. What if people saw it? Of course they saw it, he realises. “Fuck” he runs a hand over his face and through his hair.

 

He calls Tony.

 

He doesn’t answer.

 

He briefly looks over Steve’s caller ID, his thumb hovering over the picture of Steve smiling from behind a sketchbook. He considers it, but doesn't. 

 

“What the fuck?” he asks out loud to nobody and goes to sit down on the couch where he watches the clip over and over again. The music is trashy, sexy but trashy and he tries to make out the voice coming from the person filming. Nothing. He tries to examine it, take it apart and he wonders how he could possibly be so stupid, so desperate and needy for someone to just touch him and want him. He doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings at all before he hears a shuffle behind him and freezes.

 

His father is behind him, expression emotionless. He looks so cold and business-ready in his steel grey three piece suit even if Bucky knows for a fact that he too, didn’t get home until early this morning.

 

“Dad?” Bucky puts his phone down, desperation building within him until its the only thing he feels, tastes, thinks. “Dad, I can-” he stops when his dad turns his back on him. Bucky follows him over to the kitchen where his dad fetches his coffee and adjusts his tie by the island. “I can explain” Bucky stutters out trying again to find the words. It feels like he’s on display, like he’s holding his dead pet cat at age six wondering why his father won’t comment on it, why he won’t care.

 

This time it feels as if Bucky’s the cat, but no one is holding him.

 

His dad doesn’t even look at him. There’s a frown on his face, much like the one he wears everyday but this time Bucky can see that he’s irritated, contemplating, a storm brewing in his mind but the wind won’t carry the words. Everything is happening too fast.

 

“Dad?”

 

Mr. Barnes finishes his breakfast without so much as a word to Bucky, not even a glance. 

 

It's probably been fifteen minutes of Bucky just waiting there, standing in front of his father waiting for some sort of verbal response. His silence being the only comment on the video he just saw of his son. He clearly got nothing left to say.

 

Bucky feels so, so pathetic and invisible. More so than ever.

 

“Please-”

 

His father clears his throat causing false hope as he stands up, wipes the corner of his mouth with the clean white napkin. He grabs his suitcase, walks over to the front door, his shoes echoing in Bucky’s ears. He stops for a second, shoulders tensing and all Bucky wants is for him to turn around and say something, but then he opens the door and walks out.

 

*

 

“Why are you only picking up now?” Bucky hisses into the phone when Tony finally picks up around noon. “I’m almost at yours” he sniffles as the cold bites his body and cocoons every emotion brewing within him. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth as he holds back frustration and tears. He stops for a second to catch his breath from speed walking, his legs are cold and he knows his thighs are red from the bitter wind, perhaps he should have put on something other than the running shorts on his bedroom floor. 

 

“Please, let me in” he breathes.

 

“I will, calm down!” Tony groans and sounds like normal. Like Bucky’s Bucky and nothing has changed.

 

The snow is packed and the sound is reminding him of when he and Steve were walking to the coffee shop after his and Tony’s fight. The snow in general reminds him of Steve. When he gets to the Stark’s he pushes past Tony who’s holding the door open.

 

“I don’t know what to do, Tony” Bucky says as he shakes off his jacket and hangs it over the couch and kicks off his boots that he didn’t bother tying up. 

 

Tony nods and runs a hand over his goatee that he’s been working on for a while now, “First, tell me something” he points at Bucky, “I need you to be honest with me.”

 

“What?”

 

“Are you gay?”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes and folds his arms. “Yes. I thought the video made that obvious.”

 

“You could’ve been bi, who the fuck knows?” Tony snorts and looks as if he’s contemplating before he looks up and walks over to clasp a strong hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Alright. Now you just need to calm down.”

 

“I can’t. I’m not out,” he shakes his hand off, “I’m not fucking out!”

 

“You are to me?” Tony shrugs as if he doesn’t get it.

 

He doesn’t get it.

 

“Because you asked!” Bucky growls in his frustration and hides his face in his hands.

 

“Pepper is on the couch and Jarvis is always listening, that makes it three. Now, calm down. There’s a cup of coffee on the counter for you” Tony says casually and walks over to Pepper who’s sitting snugly in her baby blue pajamas reading a book about robots. 

 

“Wha-” Bucky can’t believe this. He’s shaking, his entire being is hurting and he doesn’t know what to make of this situation.

 

“Hi?” she offers meekly and looks kinda sad about being dragged into this. She’s not new to the scene, she definitely knows how the Starks can be. This must be a cake walk in comparison to whatever Tony can get up to. 

 

“Oh my god, give me a fucking break!” he looks at Tony.

 

“Get over it, Buck-” Tony starts.

 

Bucky narrows his eyes and the urge to walk over to Tony and punch him right in the goatee  is growing by the second. “Don’t you fucking tell me to just get over it. My dad wouldn’t even fucking look at me this morning!” he hisses.

 

That seems to take Tony a bit off guard. Tony’s dad isn’t exactly a prime example of a father but at least he supports his son, backs him up whenever he really needs it. Bucky’s dad is all smiles and hugs until the doors are closed and it's just the two of them. Of course Tony wouldn’t understand that Bucky’s dad would hate his son if he turned out to be gay, has turned out to be gay.

 

“What?” he looks taken aback by that.

 

“He completely. Ignored. Me!” Bucky wants to cry, he’s so tired and the video keeps replaying in his head. It feels like he’s going mad.

 

“I’m so sorry” Pepper says, she puts her book down and reaches out to grab Tony’s hand if signalizing to him that they got to do something about this sad guy in running shorts and an oversized blue sweater standing in their house.

 

“Shut up” Bucky spits and Pepper makes a rather funny face of offence and goes back to reading her book.

 

“Don’t tell her to shut up” Tony blinks and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Bucky, I know this is-”

 

“Sorry, I just. Please. Just.” Bucky sits down in the recliner and exhales deeply like someone stuck a valve in a lifeboat to let the air out. The anxiety still tight in his chest, he looks down to his lap, shame red on his ears. “You know what? I don’t know” he raises his arms and his expression lost when he looks back up at them both. “I feel…” he doesn’t know what he feels.

 

They sit there in silence for a bit until Tony mutters something to Pepper and he gets up from beside her to fetch Bucky a new cup of coffee. He comes over, crouches down beside him and hands him the steaming mug before he sighs.

 

“You look tired” he states and tilts his head to look at Bucky.

 

The chuckle that escapes him is a relief, “I’ve slept for an hour.”

 

“We’ll deal with this, ok?” Tony puts a hand on Bucky’s knee but removes it. 

 

They’ve never really been that sort of best friends. It’s always been fights, parties, bantering in the halls and throwing shit at each other for fun. But Bucky’s tired and the softness he’s had hanging around Steve is something he now craves like a toddler needing training wheels. 

 

“There’s not much to deal with, like, in this day and age it’s ok to be gay but I just…” he closes his eyes, “I just wasn’t ready.”

 

It truly feels like someone sucked the life out of him at this point. He feels like twisting himself inside out like a sponge and let the waterworks out. He can't remember the last time he felt this exhausted.

 

Tony goes quiet, noticing the vulnerability on his best friend he offers what Bucky’s dad didn’t, “You can stay here if you want?” he nearly whispers but looks at Bucky with honest brown eyes but clears his throat and looks away for a moment, clearly not used to this kind either.

 

Bucky raises an amused brow and snorts at how nice but awkward this is. Tony’s never looked this sincere. “We go back soon, I got to look after Enya-” 

 

“Exactly, you’ll be staying here” he stands up and stretches, “Bring the dog. We got rooms a plenty!” Tony adds whilst insisting and Pepper nods like she's living there too.

 

Bucky narrows his eyes at her but can’t really find a reason not to like her, he’s always liked her in the past and she’s just being kind. Bucky has no reason to be a shit towards her. He relaxes a little in the chair and sighs, “I know you do but would your parents be ok with it?” Bucky knows Mr. and Mrs. Stark like him, he’s not so sure they’re a fan of a giant dog in the middle of moulting season. 

 

“I’m sure they’ll make an exception.”

 

_ Buzz buzz _

 

Steve:  _ How’s it going today? Can I see the dog? _

 

Bucky’s heart aches when Steve's name appears on his screen, it does a fricking backflip and he sinks further into his seat, groaning like an old grumpy man that doesn’t know what to do. 

 

“What?” Tony asks, a worry line appearing in the middle of his forehead.

 

Bucky types back quickly-

 

Bucky:  _ Soon _

 

… and locks his phone again.

 

“Nothing?” Bucky says and rubs the palms of his hands over his face. 

 

He thinks about Steve, their conversation from last night just fragments in his mind now and a wave of sadness hits him. He was getting used to hanging out with Steve. He was starting to get hyper aware every time he was near the tall blonde with blue eyes that Bucky wanted to drown in. Every time he saw Thor he got angry at his jealousy nagging inside of him. It sucks, he thinks. Having such a big fat crush on a guy that clearly doesn’t like him back. He thinks about his notebook, the one where he’s written stupid songs about being dizzyingly lovesick and his raw unrequited love. Some of the pages are covered with old postcards just to hide them because they’re either too raw and personal or just plain embarrassing. His phone doesn’t buzz again.

 

Tony points at his coffee and Bucky drinks it up, trying to fill the void that keeps telling him that there’s no place for him here or there. “I’ll go home and pack,” he announces and smiles at them, hiding his sadness.

 

“Good!” Tony winks. “I’ll let my parents know.”

 

When Bucky’s reached the door he turns around and swallows, “Don’t… tell them?” he asks, voice small like a scared child. 

 

“Tell them what?” Tony pretends, “You’re staying here because we’re gonna play board games until one of us cries,” he wraps an arm around Pepper, “And I bet this one will beat us both.”

 

It’s been a while since he’s felt this much all at once. Maybe it was the night after he kissed Steve in the bathroom? Or was it after Tony punched him in the face? Bucky tries to recall but none of those emotional waves can compare to this one. He walks back over to Tony and hugs him.

 

“Thank you.”

 

*

 

When he comes home the house is dark and the floors are cold. His father hasn’t been home at all since this morning and Bucky instantly feels bad that Enya has been on her own for hours. She comes from around the corner, tail wagging and eyes bright as she sees Bucky coming towards her.

 

“Hey, babe” he bends down to kiss her head and she barks excitedly.

 

He takes a look around and feels a chill run up his spine at how empty this all is. The walls lack photos, there’s a few photographs on the wall by the door of his grandparents, an old army photo of his father and another one where he’s shaking hands with Mr. Stark. Bucky has always known that his father isn’t much of a family man, that business is everything and that he already frowned upon Bucky for pursuing music instead of law. He never really prioritized his children at all. Becca still calls him the ‘biggest asshole walking around on this planet’ and more. But Bucky’s always wanted approval but if he can’t really be himself,  _ ever _ , without his father looking at him like he’s an abomination - he doesn’t want it.

 

“We’re going to Tony’s” he tells Enya and she tilts her head trying to understand the words coming out of his mouth. “Come on!” he charges and runs up the stairs, Enya following beside him as she takes the steps two and two trying to beat him. The child within him a bit more alive now that he knows he can get away from this house a bit earlier. 

 

When he gets to his room, he frowns at the mess on his floor, the open wardrobe and old plates of food on his unused desk. His guitar is laying on the bed too beneath his sheets like the only lover he’s ever had and he’s starting to think it might also be his only. It’s a mess. Messier than what his room is like at college. He takes another good look at it and thinks that it represents his life pretty well. Bucky sighs, shoulders slumping in exhaustion as he collects a go-to bag and starts packing whatever it is that he can find that doesn’t smell. He pulls on some random clothes and doesn’t take a second look in the mirror before fetching his guitar too and closes the door behind him whilst taking Enya with him.

 

“Let’s go, Enya” he says and puts a leash on her red collar. “I’m sure you can sleep in the bed for tonight” he winks and knows that Tony will most definitely try and put her in the laundry room just to make sure his dad doesn't flip out when he hears that his son let a dog into the house. “He’s actually being kind for once” Bucky says as he grabs his stuff and heads out of the house. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced Tony kind. Nice, yes, but kind?” he chuckles with a shake of his head and can’t believe it himself, “It’s somethin’.”

 

_ Buzz buzz _

 

Steve:  _ Where’s the dog, Barnes? _

 

He stops for a moment and takes a quick photo of Enya who’s looking up at him like he’s the world to her. The sadness and worry comes back to him like poison when he thinks about Steve and then the video replays itself in his head. Quickly he sends Steve the picture and then heads back over to Tony’s. 

 

*

 

When Bucky comes back to the Starks he’s standing there in the dark, cold and frantically ringing the doorbell. 

 

“They fucking left?” he whispers and tries to take a look through the window, Enya pulling her leash the other direction causing Bucky to stumble and nearly slip on the steps. He gathers his balance and peeks through the window. No one is in. He frowns and looks down at his dog, patient as ever. “They left” he states and raises his arms in annoyance.

 

“I’m not gonna lie, the running shorts and the red blistery legs are kinda doing it for me” Tony says as he arrives after ten minutes of leaving Bucky out in the cold. “We went food shopping” he smiles at Pepper who’s carrying a few bags behind him.

 

“Maybe you can borrow them and I can lock you outside?” Bucky growls and then frowns, “You never do food shopping? Why would you do it now?” he looks between them and then he rolls his eyes.

 

“I’ve decided to become more… what did you call it, Pepper?”

 

“Human” she smiles tightly and her eyes widen. “We’re taking it slowly” she mouths to Bucky when Tony’s unlocking the door.

 

Bucky smiles at that and snorts. Maybe she's good for him.

 

Tony side eyes him, “Go drop your shit in the guest bedroom, y’know the one with the turquoise sheets?”

 

“Yeah I know the one” Bucky pushes past him and Enya follows eagerly.

 

“Ah!” Tony yelps. “Last time I saw it, it was smaller!”

 

“She was a puppy back then. She’s 3 years old now, Tony” Bucky turns and looks at him with disbelief. “Dogs grow too.”

 

“It’s big” he states and gapes when Pepper crouches down and pets Enya. “Ah!”

 

“Get over it. She’ll stay in my room. And if your parents won’t allow it I’ll… take her back to my dad” he shrugs but feels sick just thinking about it. He really can’t think of anything worse than catching his dad as he walks in the door. He’s at work, even on New Years Day. 

 

Tony just stands there, looking at the giant dog pushed against Bucky’s bright red legs.

 

Bucky can feel the heat return to his legs and the rest of his body. It’s not pleasant this time, it burns. He can feel his skin sear as the warmth of Enya’s fur moves over his bare legs. Maybe he should have got dressed properly before leaving again, the oversized blue sweater and red running shorts under his coat didn’t seem to cut it a second time.

 

Bucky pauses before going into the bedroom, thinking of last night and this morning. The feel of dirt on his skin and in his hair, in his soul a little bit too.

 

“I’m gonna shower actually,” he runs a hand through the greasy mess and sighs, “I still smell like whiskey and regret,” he bellows out to Tony who’s still in the living space.

 

“No problem man, just take your- fuck!,” he bellows back as the sound of falling cans can be heard from his vicinity too.

 

When he gets to the guest room, the one he's staying in so many times before it practically his own room, he shucks his clothes and leaves them in a pile at the foot of the double bed. The bathroom tiles aren’t particularly cold. His feet are either close to hypothermic or Tony has the underfloor heating on. He turns the shower on without a problem, turning it to the hottest setting. The steam billows from the cubicle and he inhales deeply, letting the steam fill his frozen lungs. For the first time today he feels like he can take a deep breath and actually breathe.  He steps into the stream where the water is like needles on his skin, it pelts against him like acidic rain and the pain is soothing for a while, the little pricks reminding him that pain isn’t permanent, that all pain passes. 

 

It’s hard to not think of this as an ending. The end of any relationship with his father. The end of his relationship with Tony as he knows it. He doesn’t know how his mom or sister will react but he’s pretty sure there’s an ending there too. Maybe it’s the fact he’ll never have a wife in an ivory gown or a baby that’s as much him as it is the person he’s in love with. In a strange way, maybe a vain way, it’s the ending of his relationship with Steve. Up until now he’s been able to hide it, at least partially from himself, the way that Steve’s gaze made him feel like the world was ending but he didn’t care, so long as he was with Steve. Then he could pretend that he wasn’t at least falling in love, he could pretend, it was, well anything else but not love. But now he’s out of the closet to everyone else and unfortunately he’s been dragged out to himself too and he can’t pretend it’s something else than heart racing, spine tingling, world ending love. 

 

He can’t remember when he washed his body or his hair. He can only remember the barks and the laughs while the shampoo dripped down his face. He’d turned the water cooler and washed the soap from his eyes and clambered out again, taking all his endings with him, on his bare pale chest.  

 

He picks up his clothes, opting for the same ragged cosy jumper and a pair of sweats rather than the stupidly short running shorts he’d had on earlier and clambers into them. He heads out into the vast hallway and then back into the living area where Tony and Enya are playing a tug of war and Tony is losing spectaurly. Pepper is watching them amused and to Bucky’s envy - fond and a little bit in love.

 

Tony lets go of the shredded dish towel and looks up at Bucky, “I thought we could have a game day slash night, like we used to do when we were kids?” Enya barks at him, “Well, when you were an annoying snot rag and I was forced to play with you” he adds with a smile.

 

Pepper shoots a glare at Tony but Bucky just laughs, partially in relief that no matter what happens, Tony will clearly never change. 

 

“Thanks,” Bucky responds as he plops down in front of the ancient Monopoly board. Tony loves new things but for some reason that hadn’t been extended to this. 

 

Tony pads over, holding a mug of hot chocolate in his hand, “Look since, y’know you were forcefully outed by making out with a hot post doc on my couch, I’ve let you be the dog,” he gestures to the tiny metal dog with his head. 

 

“You’re so kind Tony,” Bucky tries to make his voice sound sarcastic rather than sincere along with a forced thin lipped smile.

 

Tony jiggles his head carefully, as if his ego was collecting there, “I know.”

 

Tony places the mugs on the coffee table and Pepper comes over with her own between both of her hands. They sit around the board, each of them fiddling with the pieces of paper and card Pepper had doled out to each of them in neat piles. Tony fans himself with the wad of ones causing Pepper to giggle. It’s a sweet and fleeting moment and it makes Bucky’s heart ache. 

 

A few turns into the game and Tony has collected a plethora of low value cards. They're all wedged under his side of the board, causing the pieces to tip over every time someone moves them. Bucky eyes the pile and then the fan of money still in Tony’s hand. He’s suspicious.

 

“How have you got all that?” Bucky asks, still eying the colourful fan in Tony’s hand. 

 

“I’m just clearly superior in every way,” he grins whilst playfully counting the money in his hand. 

 

“By superior you mean cheating?” Bucky asks, looking at his own money stack. It's not impressive.

 

“Winning’s no fun if you cheat,” Tony shrugs and rolls the dice.

 

There’s the clatter of the dice hitting the board and the sound of Tony’s tiny top hat tapping along three places.

 

Pepper remains awfully quiet and she doesn’t look up, until, “I’m just playing the long game, boys. You won't know you’re losing until you’ve lost.” The words probably come out far more sinister than she intended them to be. 

 

Tony looks up and mumbles quietly, “Jesus, Pep.”

 

They play a little more. Tony collects the rest of the utilities and Bucky begins to regret playing with them. They’re both so ruthless. He can see them running a billion dollar company together one day.

 

Bucky takes his turn and rolls to go past jail. He moves his piece to the side and then Tony slyly moves it into the jail cell. “I’m only visiting jail, move my dog, Tony.”

 

Bucky begins to reach across the board to rectify Tony’s cheating and then his phone vibrates in his pocket. 

 

_ Buzz Buzz  _

 

He opens up the message without checking who sent it. Probably a bad move as he’d been sent a soft core porn video of himself a little over 10 hours earlier.

 

Luckily it’s not porn, but it is Steve, which in some ways is worse.

 

Steve:  _ Can you tell her I’d die for her? _

 

Bucky can’t help but grin because he knows Steve would. Steve loves dogs even more than Bucky does, he once told Bucky a story about how he rescued two dogs from the street and kept them in his room for two days before his mom found out, despite his crippling asthma. 

 

Tony peers over his cards at over to Bucky, noticing how his friend’s face had lit up like a christmas tree upon reading the text, “Who’s that?”

 

His mouth is suddenly very dry, “Only Rogers.”

 

“Only Rogers?” Tony quizzes pedantically. 

 

“Yeah,” Bucky states and puts his phone down on the table.

 

Tony does the same with his cards, he leans forward and it’s clear that he mean business. Bucky hates that fixed but inquisitive look on his face. “Well judging by that dumb grin on your face either Rogers is sucking you off or that text is from a person who is,” he deduces before he adds, “Is it from Max?” with a sly grin.

 

Bucky’s mouth is even dryer now and his head is swimming. He’s not lying about Steve or at least about the actual nature of their relationship, the relationship he has with Steve in his head, that’s a little further from the truth.

 

He groans, “Ugh no, it’s from Steve. Y’know, Steve with the uh, art and the uh...”

 

Tony cocks his eyebrow and finishes whatever Bucky was trying to get at, “Muscles.”

 

Bucky pulls his lips into a tight line and nods, “Yeah that one.” Bucky’s face is heating up at the thought of the way Steve’s muscles stretch the fabric of his shirts, every single one of the shirts. Someone should tell Steve that he’s not a medium shirt kinda size any more, but that person wasn’t going to be Bucky. 

 

Tony interrupts Bucky’s train of thought which was very clearly obvious going by Tony’s comment, “Do I detect a little redness in those cheeks James?” Bucky looks at him with his narrowed grey eyes. Tony doesn’t take anything from Bucky’s stare and just presses on relentlessly, “Who’s really texting you?”

 

Bucky’s hackles shoot right up, “It’s Steve!” Bucky bites back. 

 

Clearly the mistimed anger was enough of a give away for Tony for his face to change from inquisitive to absolutely insastible. “Oh my god something is going on isn’t it?” He yelps in clear delight of working out the situation. Pepper puts down her cards and wide eyes both Tony and Bucky.

 

Bucky doesn’t deny anything. He feels like he should, but he doesn’t have the energy for it anymore. 

 

Tony clicks his tongue and does a terrible job of hiding a smirk, “Was it before Thor?” he pauses when Bucky doesn’t answer in the fraction of a second he gives him to answer “… or during Thor? You dirty dog!” He yells, probably too gleefully. 

 

Bucky groans long and hard as if he is finding the words as he goes. He sighs before confessing, “Before Thor you idiot, Steve’s nobler than a fucking, I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure if you even brought up the word cheating he’d die on the spot.”

 

“Yeah,” This seems to placate Tony, for a second, “Well tell me then!”

 

Bucky scrubs his hands over his face, racking his brain for the right words. He was going to be honest, but he wasn’t going to be  _ honest _ . “It was at the first party, we made out in the bathroom. I haven’t stopped thinking about it, but he pushed me away, told me he wasn’t into guys and then starting dating Mr Valhalla a few weeks later and hasn’t given me a second look.”

 

Tony gives him a strained, ‘been there’ expression. Even though Bucky isn’t quite sure when Tony has ever been left alone in a bathroom by an animated marble statue.

 

Pepper, who’d been following the conversation quietly and carefully, chimes in, “Wait what? Who’s the Valhalla guy?”

 

Bucky sighs again and looked over at Tony, as if Tony was going to help him out. “Thor, he’s dating this guy Thor, who is so hot he could be a god and also literally the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

 

Tony gives a slight nod in agreement. 

 

“Oh,” Pepper adds, her voice is high and curious, “I mean you’re hot James, is he really that much hotter than you?”

 

“Yep” Tony and Bucky announce in agreement, without as much as giving each other a side eye.

 

Pepper laughs between the two of them, both stoic in their certainty of Thor’s extra terrestrial beauty before carefully asking, “What’s Steve like?”

 

Bucky pauses, he’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because he can’t think of Steve without thinking of how the evening sun glows through his hair like molten gold, or how his laugh sounds like the opening notes of his favourite song or maybe it's the way that his large hands are so careful and delicate when he draws, like the pencil he’s holding is made of thin glass. 

 

Tony chirps in to fill Bucky’s silence, “Steve is this ridiculous twink to tank story, makes coffee like a pro, fights the world’s injustices with one and paints like Picasso with the other. He’s basically like Hercules but with more art stuff, and blonder. Y’know the one from the Disney movie, not the one when he kills his entire family.” He turns to Bucky, “Did I miss anything?”

 

“No- wait did you cover his face and his pecs?” Turns out Bucky’s attempts at not sounding too poetic ended up with him just sounding crass. 

 

Tony laughs and takes a sip of his now cold hot chocolate, “I felt like I kinda covered that with the whole, Hercules metaphor.”

 

Bucky turns to Pepper, who’d been listening intently, she’d clearly been painting a picture but Bucky wanted to make sure it was the whole masterpiece so he adds, probably too desperately, “I’ve just got to stress the pec situation here, Pep.”

 

Tony snorts as Bucky pops the P on her name and stares at her intently. 

 

She smiles and shakes her head. She pauses for a moment whilst Bucky picks up his game piece and starts rolling it between his fingers. 

 

“He’s big then?” She asks, finally.

 

Both Tony and Bucky nod. Bucky isn’t small, but he is compared to Steve, even after the muscle he’d packed on during all the hours at the gym trying to get a glimpse of Steve squatting. 

 

“He’s a painter?” She adds.

 

They both nod again.

 

She pauses again and looks over Bucky before pensively adding, “He goes to your school?”

 

Bucky looks over to Tony who’s now cocking an eyebrow at Bucky, “Yes?” Bucky responds, as more of a question than an answer.

 

Pepper makes a small humming sound, as if she was evaluating all the information put in front of her. She waits and then announces her conclusion, “Is that his sweater?”

 

Bucky immediately looks down and tugs on the blue sweater to stretch it out. It was huge, blue and covered in red and white paint splodges with their university crest faded in the center. How did he end up putting on Steve’s sweater, on today of all days, he just liked the comfort of the excess material around his torso and the softness of the worn fabric. 

 

Tony looks at Bucky again, who’s now trying to hide the evidence by crossing his arms tightly over his chest, “Oh my god, Pep it is!” he announces gleefully. 

 

Bucky can feel the heat rise in his cheeks like someone had lit a furnace underneath his body. He wants to say something but he’s not sure what he’ll say would make the situation any better. So, instead he settles for sitting, motionless, like an idiot. 

 

Tony leans forward again and begins to drawl, “So, if you aren’t fucking, why are you wearing his clothes?”

 

Bucky thinks back to a day in November when he’d gotten his coat completely soaked through. It was so wet it was doing more harm than good.  He’d gone into the coffee shop for some refuge from the cold and a hot drink. Steve looked at his shivering, even though Bucky was doing his best to hide it. He looked at him with his kind blue eyes and pulled off his sweater and handed it to Bucky. Bucky protested but there was no way Steve was letting him out without it. Steve’s never asked for it back, in fact he even complimented Bucky a few times about how the blue of the sweater brought out the flecks of icy blue in his eyes. Bucky just matter-of-factly states, “He gave it me when I was cold.”

 

Tony cocks another eyebrow and looks at Pepper, who’s own eyebrows were far too high up her forehead for her to look relaxed too. “He gave it you when you were cold?” Tony repeats. It’s not a statement this time. It’s a question, a question he thinks Bucky has the answers to but he doesn’t. By the way Bucky looks confused and Pepper and Tony gaze at him knowingly, he’s the last person here who seems like he knows the answer to that question.  

 

“... yeah?” Bucky mutters because that’s all he can muster. 

 

“Okay, Clint owes me money,” Tony announces whilst grinning at Pepper.

 

Bucky folds his arms tighter over his chest, still trying to hide the sweater, “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

Tony makes a high pitched noise and clicks his tongue, “Nothing, just keeping track of my finances is all. That’s how the rich stay rich!”

 

_ Buzz Buzz _

 

Bucky picks up his phone from the table, it’s a text from his sister. 

 

Becca:  _ you still down to come to mom’s for a few days? tomorrow right? _

 

Amongst the chaos he’d forgotten he was supposed to be staying with his mom for a few days before returning to college. This was the first time he’d spend any time with her in years and he’s completely forgotten about it.

 

“Fuck I totally forgot I’m supposed to be staying at my mom’s!” 

 

*

 

After he announced to Pepper and Tony that he forgotten his original plans, they all wrapped up the game and went to bed. The next day Bucky found himself on the train. The ride out to the outskirts of the city was spent trying to write down lyrics into his beaten up notebook and also somehow trying to keep Enya to sit still between his knees. People kept asking if they could pet her and he kept being interrupted while being lost in his own head, with words trying to flow together like rivers meeting oceans. Today it ended up being sticks and stones and Bucky hates the solemness that comes out in his words. Fuck, he hates being this miserable.

 

When he’s outside his mother’s door, standing on her porch and reading the sign next to the doorbell; “Francesca Giovanne and Becca Barnes” he feels a mixed feeling of homecoming and fear. He hasn't seen his mother in two years. Only spoken to her on the phone about music and Tony. He feels bad for always having shut her down on video calling but the truth is that it's been too hard. He's been too stubborn to admit that he's been blaming her. When she left he blamed her and he's always known that it wasn't but it was easier to sort out the feelings when he could pin it on someone who wasn't there. The way his father did it with the divorce was to split them 50/50. Becca went willingly, seeing it as a blessing getting to live with their angel mother whereas Bucky got stuck with the devil. 

 

He gathers the courage to knock and Becca opens it before he gets to the second rap with his knuckle and pulls him and Enya into the house, immediately squishing him in her famously squish-to-death hugs. Enya barks wildly trying to protect him but at the same time she wants to play with the one ‘murdering’ him.

 

“You're here!” Becca cries happily into his ear and Bucky nuzzles into her shoulder squishing her right back until she taps on his arm to let her go. “You're so big what the fuck happened?”

 

“Language!” their mother says and smiles fondly at Bucky. “Ciao my boy,” she cries, “You've become a man!” her breath hitches and she reaches out her arms.

 

Bucky can't hold back his tears and meets her open arms, embraces her in a hug so tight he hopes she can feel the pain and the love of having missed her for all the years she's been gone and for all the years he hasn't been able to look at her. 

 

“I’m sorry” he breaks and hides his face into the smell of Home and Mom. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“ _ Va bene _ , James.  _ Va bene _ .” She strikes the back of his head and holds him close like she used to do. “How are you?” she smiles softly and pulls away, “How you've been?”

 

“You big baby! Stop cryin’ and get your dog off of me!” Becca begs from the floor while Enya is trying to lick her face off.

 

“Hey Becca, missed you at the Starks” Bucky says instead and leaves Enya to torture his sister with her extreme love.

 

Becca has to actually pet the big dog to get her off of her. And in the end Becca finally manages to get up on her feet again and breathes out a big sigh of relief.

 

“Anything wild happen?” she grins and gestures for him to follow her into the living room. “Did Tony blow anyone up?”

 

“Not quite” he chuckles. Tony had tried to show all of them a neat trick but somehow they had averted his attention to something else.

 

She shoots him a look of disappointment and groans, “Don’t care that I missed it then.”

 

“Where’s Andy?” Bucky asks looking around in the living room for his mother's boyfriend. A guy that doesn't say much but is willing to do everything for the women under this roof. Just one out of many reasons why Bucky likes him.

 

Francesca carries a tray of hot drinks over to the coffee table and smiles when her kids plonks down onto the big couch. “He’s back in the office today, it’s just us three for now” she smiles.

 

Becca groans in jest and Bucky groans louder.

 

*

 

The time they've had together has been everything Bucky wanted and needed. It's been gasoline to his camp fire that had been abandoned by a kid with little hope and faith that there was any reason to keep it going. 

 

Becca likes his hair long. She told him the night he arrived and she wanted him to sleep on the floor in her room rather in than the empty guest room. It ended up with conversations about music until the clock showed 4am and her asking if she could braid his hair.

 

He didn’t know how much he's been missing her until now. The laughs, the minor discussions leading to a small fight where she'd glare at him and threaten to stab him with the dinner fork. He learned that she's got a new job where she works full time as an editor, even at seventeen. 

 

He hadn't realized know how much he’s craved his own mother. Her gentle touch and soft New York accent tainted by her Italian. Just the smallest of conversations filled Bucky’s heart with hope and new dreams. It’s like she's the antidote to his father’s poison and constant negativity. She asked him randomly during dinner if he was going to church, like they used to, and he nearly almost choked on his ravioli while all the bad things he’s ever done flashed before his eyes.

 

“No” he told her. “I-we haven't been since you…” he had stirred his food and sighed. “No, mom.”

 

“You a believer?”

 

Does he believe? He’s not sure if he does. Not anymore.

 

He noticed a painted image of Christ in the bathroom when he woke up the other day. There's a few crosses here and there, Becca has hers hanging over her bed but Bucky didn’t ask if she still believes. 

 

He's tense. He’s been for the past few months, but more so now. His shoulders drawn and neck straining with the worry hanging over his head. Becca keeps looking at him like she knows and that she's waiting for him to confess.

 

“I don’t know, ma.” Bucky hadn't dared to meet her eye. She hadn't said anything but the tiny gesture of putting her hand over his was enough for Bucky to understand that it was ok. He doesn't have to know.

 

“Next time you come here, I’m taking you.”

 

“If he hails Satan you can't really drag him to church, mother.”

 

“Becca!” Francesca had clutched her heart non dramatically and gasped.

 

“I don't hail Satan!” Bucky has snorted. “I just don't know if I believe.”

 

“‘I want to believe!’” she quoted Mulder from X-Files and Bucky suggested they have a mini marathon of the show the day before he left.

 

*

 

“You've been tense.”

 

Bucky snaps his head around from where he's putting his coat back on. He's in his now freshly cleaned NASA shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. He got a flat hat on and Becca wrapped him up in a new olive green scarf.

 

“Want to tell me what’s up, Buckaroo?”

 

He's taken back to the night in the coffee shop and Steve's dumb smile. The night when he called Bucky by the dumb nickname for the nickname given and Bucky had allowed him.

 

“I-” he starts and Becca turns suspicious and narrows her eyes at him. “What?”

 

“Something's clearly wrong. You're not yelling at me for calling you that!” she muses at him and points an accusing finger at him, “Spill the beans!”

 

“Another time, alright?” he pleads and hauls his bag over his shoulder. He's about to walk out the door when she clears her throat and there's a rattle from Enya’s collar.

 

“Buck, don’t forget this… thing” she looks at the dog and then at Bucky.

 

Everyone is looking at him.

 

“Oh thanks” he takes the leash but a part of him wants Enya to stay here. It's better for here with them.

 

“You sure you’re okay to take Enya back to dad’s?”

 

_ No _ . “Yeah” he grimaces but stops to think for a second about what would happen if their Dad’s home. Silence and disapproval. “Yeah, yeah it’s fine. I can be in an out like a ninja, Dad doesn’t need to see me. You still not on speaking terms?” he smiles but he can feel that his smile doesn't look as confident and sure as he wants it to be.

 

“He sent me a Happy New Years text and I responded with ‘ _ Sorry this phone number is no longer active _ ’” Becca chuckles and leans on the doorframe to the hallway. Her eyes burning into his head.

 

Bucky clucks his tongue and shakes his head, avoiding her gaze. Becca's always been fearless like that; like she doesn't care but Bucky knows a small part of her does. “Maybe I should try that one, if he ever tries to speak to me again.”

 

Now she look genuinely worried, “What happened?” her voice is angry, protective.

 

“It’s a long story” he runs a hand through his hair and frowns while avoiding her intense gaze of ‘ _ Ineedtoknow _ ’.

 

“Nah, Buck you gotta tell me,” she crosses her arms and starts again, “Being petty is not fun when you’re petty on your own.”

 

Bucky groans, he knows he’s got to tell her at some point. He can’t exactly get married and introduce his husband as a ‘good friend’ to his little sister, “It’s not exactly petty.”

 

Becca’s face lights up with interest and concern, “What did he do, smash up one of the kids?” 

 

She laughs, probably mostly from nerves. Mr Barnes had always threatened to bust up all Bucky’s guitars. He hates that Bucky loves them. He hates that he’s chosen to pursue music over something more concrete. He sold Bucky’s first guitar in a hope that would deter him but it did nothing of the sort. Bucky just went and bought a fancier guitar.

 

Bucky runs a hand through his long hair, it was softer now that he’d been stealing Becca’s shampoo, “No no, the kids are fine.”

 

Becca sighs in relief but they both wait in silence waiting for the real answer. She’s waiting for Bucky to be ready but if Bucky waits until he’s ready they’d sooner be a pile of dust and bones on the hallway floor. 

 

Bucky stops playing with his hair and clasps them together, determined not to cover his face for once. He takes a deep breath and spills the beans, “He saw a video of me making out with a guy.”

 

Becca looks at him like he’s just told her he’s a wanted criminal in 46 states and most of Finland, “He what?” she shakes her head and splutters, “How?” she asks before giving Bucky the opportunity to answer, “Is he on your college group chat or something?”

 

Bucky wants to laugh but he’s pretty sure it would just be a nervous bark, “N- I was watching it and he saw it?”

 

Becca crosses her arms and leans against the wall, “You shooting sex tapes now?”

 

This time Bucky can’t help the choked laugh that burns in his throat, “No, it was from the Stark’s party, someone filmed me and this guy.”

 

For a second Becca looks kind of relieved, she smiles softly and waves her hand like she’s conducting a tiny orchestra of ants, “Just blame it on the alcohol, we’ve all done gay shit when we’re drunk.”

 

Bucky’s head twitches back in shock and his eyes grow wide, “You what?” He wants to know more but this really isn't the time, “Okay this is for another time” he points his finger at her.

 

Although it seems like Becca has other ideas. “Yeah, it was at Evie’s seventeenth,” she nods proudly.

 

“Evie with the red hair?” Bucky asks, not denying the revelation that's just been presented to him on a silver platter. Maybe this softens his own blow, slightly, maybe.

 

She nods, probably a little too triumphantly. 

 

“Yeah… nice” Bucky nods. 

 

Becca leans forward eagerly, clearly wanting to talk about the situation more, “She’s hot right?”

 

Bucky wasn’t losing interest, far from it, but his own confession was burning up inside of him so white hot, he’s pretty sure he was going to explode in a flurry of pride rainbows, blood and sinew. “Yeah” he nods, distracted. He takes a deep breath, probably the deepest breath he’s ever taken. Maybe if he took in enough air he could just float away and never have to face the world again, after he floats across the Atlantic, he could start again in Paris with a tall baker called Pierre and have two cats and an apartment with flowers on the windowsill. Then, as he was taking in the last molecules of oxygen, he didn’t want to float away. He wants to build the life he has now, this moment could be the new start he’s been looking for all along. “Okay the thing is Bec,” he exhales for what feels like eternity and swallow without looking at her, “It wasn’t just a drunk thing, I’m gay.”

 

She looks at him with her large dark eyes, her expression undecipherable. She starts slowly, “Yeah, I know.” She shakes her head like it had been so obvious all along. 

 

Bucky’s mouth is dry and his lungs are still aching from holding in the air and everything else but he stutters out, “How?”

 

She shrugs and starts picking at one of her hangnails before responding nonchalantly, “I remember you used to keep all the packaging from your underwear boxes.”

 

Bucky feels like he’s been caught at school with his pants down. In the assembly hall, during parents evening and everyone is filming him. He stutters, “I mean, yeah that’s uh, I’ll let you have that one.” 

 

She laughs, but not the strained barks that had nervously escaped Bucky earlier. This laughter was warm and comforting, the kind of laughter he’s heard from her during warm summer days by the pool or during her favourite tv show. This was kind, this was warm, this was okay.

 

“Any other thoughts?” he asks.

 

“Nope” she grins.  

 

“Cool.” She knows that he’ll get the questions in a barrage at another time, or in a flurry of texts as Bucky walks out of the door. 

 

She pauses and looks at him suspiciously, “You got a boyfriend?” 

 

Bucky laughs at lets out a strangled, “No.”

 

She tuts and shakes her head, clearly disappointed for some reason, “Damn it.”

 

Suddenly there is a rustling from the other room and their mom pokes her head around the arch. She steps out and simply says nothing but, “James.”

 

Bucky’s heart is in his mouth. He can feel his heart pounding like horses galloping over a field fleeing a threat, like he’d just taken a shot of a adrenaline straight to his chest. He tries to open his mouth to talk to his mom, but it feels like he’s just let chocolate melt in there, it’s dry and cloying and when he tries to speak to his mom it’s just a strangled croak.

 

Instead he turns to Becca, lashing out, “Why can’t you talk like a normal person!”

 

“I wasn’t yelling! This is mom’s fault she’s always lurking,” Becca hisses and then turns towards their mom and adds softly, “Mom, you shouldn’t lurk.”

 

She takes a few steps towards them in silence, she looks at her children, both towering over her tiny frame. 

 

“How much of it did you hear?” Bucky croaks. He’s not sure what he wants the answer to be. In some ways it would be easier if she’s heard nothing. He could keep on like he always had. On the other hand, he’s not sure if he can put himself through muttering the words out to his mom face to face. 

 

“Enough” she states, her tone warm and open. 

 

She moves to Bucky and pulls him into a hug, tighter than a vice. Her hug is like a pressure blanket around him soothing him to the core. Bucky nestles his head into his mom’s shoulder as she kisses his head and strokes his hair. “It’s okay” she whispers into his ear, its soft and soothing, like aloe vera on a sunburn. 

 

He can’t help but let out a choked sob as she continues to stroke his hair. She holds his warm face in her little hands. His eyes are glassy and red, tears collecting in his long lashes like dew on a winter morning. 

 

She rubs her thumb on his cheek and whispers, “My baby, why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

 

“Because-” he chokes back another sob, “I didn’t want dad to know.”

 

“I understand,” she clicks her tongue “but fuck your father.” 

 

Bucky produces something halfway in between a laugh and a sob. He nestles into his mom’s hand, he feels safe and home for once in his life, stood in the hallway of his mom’s apartment.

 

She removes her hand from his face and places it on his shoulder and squeezes lightly, “You’re a thousand times the man he will ever be.” Her voice is so careful and purposeful, it’s like he’s been waiting his entire life to hear this, to feel this, to feel accepted and welcome as he is.

 

“I wasn’t ready though, mom.” It comes out so lightly, it’s barely a whisper and Bucky’s not sure he’s even said it out loud at all.

 

“I know honey,” she responds, just as carefully as before. 

 

He catches Becca’s eye who is looking at them both. She smiles softly but keeps her distance. She’s always had a way of knowing what Bucky needs without him saying a word. 

 

“I love you,” she strokes his face again, “we were put on this earth to love and treat others with love and there’s nobody on this earth that does that better than you.”

 

Becca pokes into the moment, “Hey!”

 

“And you Rebecca,” she laughs. 

 

“Thank you” his sister chirps, satisfied. 

 

“Bucky, I love you even more, if that was even possible, now that I can see all of you.” She hugs in closer to Bucky, he can feel the her hair catch on the tears in his eyes. She smells like basil and home. He can feel the heat rise from the hardwood beneath his feet right up to the tip of his head.

 

“Jesus, mom I’m going to start crying again,” he laughs, but he doesn’t lie. 

 

“Let it out honey,” she squeezes into the hug tighter. Then, Becca wraps her arms around her brother and mom, scooping the bulky man and tiny woman into her body. 

 

“Just why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Becca asks into Bucky’s back, her voice being muffled by the wool of his coat.

 

“I just wanted it to be normal, for the last time, before you found out,” he mumbles into his mom’s head. He’s pretty sure that if he looks at any of them he’s going to burst into tears again.

 

“Gaaay” Becca chuckles.

 

Bucky bursts out into a fit of laughter. The gratefulness in his chest beyond grand and he can't believe they're his family, the ones he should've been with this entire time.

 

Then, in the fraction of a second, the ending stopped. This wasn’t an ending anymore, this was a beginning. This wasn’t fall this was spring, the leaves and the flowers grow from the wreckage of winter. He could feel something grow, not die inside of him, around him. His relationships with his mom, Becca and Tony, they weren’t ending, the were growing and changing. 

 

The problem of Steve though was a little more difficult. He knows that he’s falling in love, he can’t pretend, it is, well anything else other than love. He can’t pretend it’s something else other than heart racing, spine tingling, world ending love. It’s difficult but freeing to finally admit that. Maybe Steve will get to hear it one day, even if he’s sure he’s never going to hear it back. 

 

“Are you okay to go back? You can stay with us as long as you want” Bucky’s mom looks up at him, slightly concerned and he realizes he probably still looks fragile. 

 

He wants to stay, he really does. He wants to stay in this moment, the warmth and security of this moment could fuel him for the rest of his life. He can’t help but think of Steve and the open mic night, he’s sure that Steve could do it without him but it was his idea and he doesn’t want to let him down. He smiles softly at them both, “I’m not ready but I have to go. I’ve made a commitment to someone.” 

 

His mom nods affirmatively but Becca looks disappointed.

 

“Mom, did you know?” Becca asks to their mom, but Bucky flinches and looks like he’s dived head first into a pool of beetroot juice. 

 

“Well,” she states and pauses, “It’s not my place, if you weren’t ready.” She stops talking but she’s not finished.  Bucky shoots her a look to tell her he’s okay. She grins and finishes what's on her mind, “I mean you did watch George of the Jungle alot.”

 

She shrugs and looks guilty but Becca begins to laugh and nod along, patting Bucky on the back as she did. Her eyes crease with the laughter and soon enough his own do too. 

 

It turns out that Bucky hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he’d thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou for reading! we love and cherish your feedback! find us on tumblr @avengingbucks and @get-ragnawrecked


	13. Fun Times in Babylon

 

Sam and Steve get back to college early morning on January 4th. They throw their stuff in the door of their dorm and collapse on their respective beds. One thing they’d learn is that the beds here will never be as comfortable as their ones at home. 

 

“I haven’t worked out in almost two weeks and I can feel it” Steve breathes, face down in his grey sheets, “My back hurts. My joints are killing me.”

 

“Shut up” Sam wheezes. “You’re the one with the asthma and here I am,” he heaves for a breath, “having trouble breathing. I think your mother’s turkey is still weighing me down.”

 

Steve chuckles and sits up, resting on his elbows. “I might go to the gym later, do you wanna join?”

 

Sam looks at him intently, it looks like he’s trying to form answer by connecting the freckles on Steve’s face. Finally he sighs, “Nah, I got to study for the next exam,” he waves Steve off and shakes his head. The exhaustion of constantly studying whenever he’s had the time showing hard through the bags under Sam’s eyes. 

 

“You’ll nail it. Just like the last one,” Steve tries to assure Sam but Sam shoots him a worried look and Steve knows there’s nothing he can say for Sam to relax. “Want me to join you in the library? I got to study for a history project about the great musicians and their portraits. I need to read up on Barbara Krafft.” Misery loves company after all. 

 

Sam accepts his company and they pack their bags and head towards the library. They trudge through the snow and the sour weather that gnaws on their bones even through the layers of clothing. Steve bought a jacket, he decided it was now or never and boy, he’s happy he did it because without it in this weather he would’ve caught either a cold or something even worse. Sam almost told Sarah Rogers that her boy had been traversing around a New England winter without anything but a denim jacket, sweaters and pure will power alone. Her reaction would have been worse than any cold, pneumonia or flesh eating virus he could have caught. 

 

They don’t talk much on their way over. Sam curses when he steps in a small puddle and Steve nearly slips on a spot of black ice but other than that it’s just their usual comfortable silence.

 

The warmth of the library is welcome, the noise and amount of students already in there - not so much. Steve can’t remember the library ever being this packed and to be honest, he’s never experienced it this loud. He’s not sure if everyone has forgotten The First Rule of Library Club. Steve feels uneasy and he looks over to Sam who frowns at how cliqued everyone seems. They’re all huddled together in small groups, looking at something and having different reactions like they’re out of some clichéd teenage movie. Someone is gasping, others laughing and then something airdrops to his phone. Sam moves closer to see what the fuss is about. Steve squints a little when he presses play on the video sent from ‘Langford’s iPhone’.

 

His breath hitches when he sees who it is and what it is. He feels sick to his stomach but he can’t find it in him to turn it off, lock his screen and ignore it. So instead Sam takes the initiative and grabs the phone out of Steve’s hands.

 

“You don’t want to watch that.” Sam looks at Steve sternly, but it’s clear he’s worried. 

 

Steve’s lost his ability to speak, he looks around at everyone wondering how they all have it in them to be so… cruel? Thoughtless? Evil? He hears someone say  _ ‘play it again!’ _ and  _ ‘Is Barnes a faggot?’ _ and  _ ‘Damn, Max is out there fucking with everyone’ _ . 

 

Steve doesn’t know what to say. He just knows he’s devastated and that he feels sick to his bone. He feels like the muscle of his heart has given way and there’s blood filling up his torso and he’s drowning in it. He’s devastated for Bucky, who he knows isn’t out, even to himself really. Steve knows and he’s sure a few of the others know too, but that was just something unspoken, something to only come into fruition when Bucky gave the signal, when he himself was ready to do so. Steve feels awful, because he knows if there’s a video along with questions from everyone, Bucky never gave that signal.

 

A small part of him feels awful for a different reason, a wholly more selfish reason. The awfulness that consumes him like black tar -  _ jealousy _ . He knows he has no right to be jealous, Bucky isn’t his, Bucky has never been his, yet here is this all consuming feeling gnawing on him from the inside out. He’s hurt and it’s a situation that has never been about Steve and by the looks of it never will be.

 

The students are on the video like flies on horseshit, the snickers and the whispers don’t stop. 

 

He takes a deep breath, pinches the bridge of his nose whilst his mind feels like a overheated teakettle on a stove somewhere far far away but he’s ready to explode. Sam notices the change in his friend and tries to grab a hold of Steve when he barges towards the largest and loudest group of people.

 

“Stop that” he snaps and everybody looks up at him, stunned by this giant stranger snapping at them. “Delete the fucking video and have some fucking decency towards other people” he looks at them all, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed and his chest rising and falling with anger boiling inside of him like a bull seeing red. “Delete it!” he clips and some of them mutter  a hushed ‘ok’ and do as he says whereas others put their phone away and stop snickering about it. Sam curls a hand around his arm and somehow manages to pull him away from everyone.

 

“Steve-” 

 

“No, just leave me alone!” he writhes out of Sam’s grasp and takes a deep breath before looking around to find people staring at him. “No- you stay here, I can’t be here right now” he says rushed and grabs his bag from where he left it on the ground before he starts walking as fast as his legs will carry him out of there. He doesn’t feel like himself at all. These emotions are new, strong and terrible, and Steve needs to escape somehow.

  
“What are you gonna do?” Sam calls after him but Steve doesn’t reply.

 

*

 

Steve’s sitting in his bed, a few hours since the library incident and he’s trying to focus on the book about Barbara Krafft’s work that he has opened in his lap but all that’s on his mind is the video of Bucky, soft and pliant in Max’s lap.  _ Who the fuck even is Max? _ Steve groans and flips to page 12. You would’ve thought he’d gotten further than that in four hours but here he is, caught up over Bucky’s video, angry and jealous all at the same time. The sensible part of Steve’s brain tells him to fess up and tell Bucky the truth; that he likes him, the other part wants to fight, to scream and yell and ask him why he’d go and make out with a random guy like that. But then the sensible part is telling him that’s what people his age do. They hook up. Things happen.

 

He’s got no clue what to say or do when he meets Bucky later. 

 

_ Buzz buzz _

 

Bucky:  _ where do you wanna meet, rogers? _

 

Steve stares at the message. Maybe if he stares long enough it’ll burn a hole in the mattress and his phone will disappear, explode, vanish. It doesn’t, so after some minutes of contemplating he picks up the phone.

 

Steve:  _ Split Bean _

 

*

 

They went over the details for the open mic night with a cup of coffee and Steve helped Bucky set up the stage for the gig after they quickly caught up. Of course Bucky left out the part where he’d made out with Max and the video. Steve wanted to bring it up, he wanted to see how Bucky was feeling but it was clear that Bucky either didn’t know the video was out or didn’t want Steve to know about it. Steve knew that there was a reason that Bucky wasn’t mentioning it. So, they worked away in almost silence, the sounds of the radio petering away in the background managed to keep the situation tolerable, Steve didn’t really have much more to say that Bucky didn’t already know as they’d spent most of the break texting. When they did talk, Bucky kept looking at him, a little questioning whenever Steve didn’t laugh at something he said or when Steve said they had to get things done because time was running out. Not because he was worried that if he started to talk his confessions would roll of his tongue like heavy boulders. 

 

*

 

So, now Steve’s standing squished between Nat and Sam in the crowded coffee shop and Bucky’s sat on a chair surrounded by the bookshelves they’ve moved out of the way to make the gig happen. He’s got his guitar on his lap, tuning it somehow over the blabber of people and Steve’s watching his every move like a curious child. A bitter but curious child. He feels silly because he knows this isn’t Bucky’s fault, he knows that if he’d just talked with him earlier he could’ve avoided feeling this poison bubbling within him.

 

Steve takes a look around at the still festive looking coffee shop, the warm fairy lights still hanging up and the Christmas decorations are still scattered around. There’s a small reindeer in the corner behind Bucky, a flying angel in another and Santa is standing by the entrance with a blackboard saying “Welcome back!” that Steve drew with colorful chalk.

 

“James!” someone yells and he looks up and smiles in a way that so vulnerable and soft it makes Steve’s insides do that thing where it feels like someone’s grabbing them, pulling, hard, stringing him up. He takes a deep breath when he feels the tightness in his chest subside just a little.

 

“You alright?” Nat asks, yells into his ear over the sound of people chatting like their life depends on it.

 

“Just a little hard to breathe in here” he says honestly and exhales shakily.  _ Why do I have to feel so much? _ he thinks to himself and closes his eyes.

 

“You wanna go outside?” she asks, brows knitted together and lips turned into a frown, clearly worried about him.

 

To be honest, he’s sure that if he hadn’t learned how to deal with his attacks he’d probably have one right now, but he goes, “No, I’m good!” he lies and gives her somewhat a reassuring smile. “It’ll be ok.”

 

Bucky sits up straight, puts the pick in his mouth and strums the guitar once, settling with the way it sounds and then he looks around before standing up and pulling the microphone a bit closer.

 

“I’m Bucky” he says and someone shouts  _ ‘hell yeah!’ _ in the back. A few other people wolf whistle and Bucky freezes for a moment before he clears his throat and continues, “I just want to thank you all for coming tonight. It means a lot to me and all of this goes to charity, that’s pretty amazing, right? There’s some really talented people coming up here tonight and I can’t wait for you all to hear them. And for the less talented people, we’ll be setting up karaoke later.” He strums the guitar once, twice and then he smiles and averts his gaze, for a brief moment it lands on Steve and his smile disappears, turns into something else. “The songs I’m going to play are a mixture of original songs and a few covers. I hope that’s ok?” people go clap and whoop and Steve’s chest is back to tightening. 

 

Of course every girl still swoons, some boys are whooping and Steve feels himself grow a bit annoyed at how they all are drawn to him. Sam taps his arm and raises a brow and Steve ignores him and his suggestive winky brows. When he really thinks about it, he’s not that surprised at how mixed his emotions have become over the last few hours, how torn he feels with the  _ jealousy _ and  _ protectiveness _ whirling around in his head. Mostly he’s annoyed that Bucky hasn’t said anything, but mostly annoyed at himself for being too petty and terrified to ask and confess. It’s like everything is on loop in his head.

 

When Bucky starts playing instead of doing tiny little strums on the guitar, Steve pays attention to him instead of his head. He’s heard some of Bucky’s original songs, he knows how… raw and personal they can be and Steve can just feel something building in the room like thunder in a grey thick cloud. 

 

The first one is… upbeat, kind of angry and Bucky’s clearly having the time of his life with the way he belts out the lyrics to this one about traffic in New York and shitty beer. Sam’s nodding along enjoying the song, tapping his foot a little while Nat is full on swinging with her hips along to the song and letting her red hair bounce freely. Steve’s probably looking like a douche with his arms crossed across his chest and frown plastered to his face.

 

He taps on Sam’s shoulder, “I’m gonna go grab a beer!” he says and Sam nods, gives him the thumbs up and Steve starts to move back to the counter. Greg frowns at him and is so undoubtedly about to give him shit about something he did wrong on his last shift but he cuts Greg off before he can say it. “Can I get a beer, Greg?” Steve ask over the music.

 

Greg just look at him, eye twitching a little before he spits out, “What kind?”

 

“Doesn’t matter. We don’t have that many do we?” Steve snorts and grabs the beer of the counter and hands him the money.

 

He stands there, for four songs and three beers before Bucky tells everyone it’s gonna become a bit slower. Steve thinks he’s anonymous enough to throw out a  _ ‘boo’ _ but he refrains from it because he is at least one head above everyone else in here. Almost. He spots Thor and another guy that’s just as tall. Steve sees Val wrapped up in Thor’s arms and there’s another pang of jealousy but not because she’s the one in his arms. More because they’ve found each other and Steve’s still stuck.

 

“Another” he tells Greg and pays up.

 

Everyone goes quiet and Steve decides to move back to his friends. Nat is whispering something to Sam and smiles big when Steve comes back, his arms gathering them both so they’re close to him. “Hi” he hums and smiles.

 

“How many?” Nat chuckles and pinches his side to let her go.

 

“Two!” he lies, “Three” he corrects. He doesn’t like lying.

 

“I’m gonna go get one too” she decides and taps Sam’s arm for his attention. “Sam?”

 

“I’ll come with you!” Sam is quick to say and escapes Steve’s hug.

 

“I just came back and you’re leaving?” he shouts at his friends and people look at him weirdly. “What?” he grunts.

 

“We don’t want sad and personal” Nat winks and Steve narrows his eyes at them.

 

“Wha-”

 

“This one is one of my own” Bucky says into the microphone and Steve turns his head so fast he feels his neck protests. Bucky looks so soft in the dimmed light of the coffee shop and so at peace it makes Steve feel so bad for not being honest with him, Bucky’s his friend and Steve is… so damn stupid. He doesn’t deserve this shitty mood that Steve been in all day. 

 

There’s no doubt that Bucky’s singing about Steve when he sings about the late night in the closed coffee shop. Bucky’s humming in between the lyrics, he’s swallowing whenever the words he sings become to raw and his voice carry the emotion like he was born to do it. Steve can’t tear his eyes off of him. The moment Bucky opens his eyes, Steve can’t remember when he closed them, he locks his eyes with Steve’s and Steve swallows down his admiration and love, heart aching painfully with everything he wants to know but mostly with mostly the  _ how’s _ and  _ why’s _ . The song goes on, some are blinking back a few tears, some are looking up at Bucky with eyes full of wonder and admiration and then there’s Steve not knowing where to go or what to do.

 

When the song ends, Bucky smiles solemnly and completely avoids looking at everyone. He grabs the microphone and clears his throat, “That was it from me guys. Next up is Julie Sanders!” and that was that, he’s off.

 

A tall girl with her curls tied into a bun moves onto the stage with her own guitar, she plucks on it smoothly and begins to sing just as smoothly and Steve tries to see where Bucky went. Nat comes over to him cautiously, hand reaching out to touch Steve. She's full of quiet worry but the moment she tries to grab his arm he’s shucked her away and he's stalking after Bucky.

 

Steve rounds the corner to the emergency exit, pushes through backdoor and the moment he steps outside he finds Bucky hunched over, breathing in large gulps of air. “What the hell?” Steve says a bit too harshly. “Bucky, what the hell?” he breathes, a little more cautiously. 

 

Bucky stands up, eyes wide, chest heaving as he takes another deep breath and chuckles nervously before avoiding Steve by facing away from him.

 

Steve takes a determined step towards him but then he stops himself before he takes another step. Bucky probably wants to be alone, he probably didn’t mean to cut his gig short and he probably didn’t mean to- “Was that…” Steve’s throat goes dry, “Was that about-”

 

Bucky turns to him and suddenly it looks like he’s a void, empty of whatever emotions he’s had on display all evening, he looks drained and tired. “What?” he shoots Steve’s way.

 

“Was it about-”

 

“You?”

 

Steve sucks in a breath and shrugs.

 

Bucky shrugs too, a bit nonchalant, unsure. “What if it was?” he says, lips stuck between his teeth as he takes a look at Steve but just as quickly his eyes have found the cold ground beneath their feet.

 

“Why?” Steve takes another step forward and Bucky backs into the brick wall behind him, leaning against it while crossing his arms. Steve doesn't know what to say, he pauses before asking, “Why would you write a song about me? I…”

 

Bucky shakes his head slowly from side to side, lip worrying between his teeth as if he’s forcing himself not to say whatever it is he’s about to say. Steve can see the exact moment when he decides ‘fuck it’, “Because I’ve l-liked you since before  _ that _ shitty party, Steve.”

 

Steve has to close his eyes for a second. All the thoughts in his head are swimming around like impatient little piranhas nagging at him to say something, anything, so unfortunately he goes with, “But you kissed Max” he says it as a statement. He blinks like he’s getting back to reality. Bucky’s just confessed that he likes him and he hands him that shit. “Buck-”

 

Bucky’s frozen to his spot, jaw tense and eyes so full of hurt and shame Steve wants nothing more than to make it go away. “You’ve seen it too?” Bucky looks away, hand running through his hair.

 

Steve regrets the beers, regrets every thought and word he’s said this evening. “Hey” he swallows and moves to reach out but Bucky flinches away. Steve halts and a thought occurs to him, “Did he hurt you?”

 

“No-” Bucky mutters and looks at Steve confused. “He didn’t hurt me. We made out, Steve.”

 

“Don’t remind me” Steve chuckles painfully but Bucky scowls at him. Steve changes pace again, “Why did you kiss him?”

 

“I was drunk?” Bucky says it like it’s obvious. “I had too much to drink and he was there.” The words  _ ‘you weren’t’  _ not spoken but his expression gives it away. Bucky looks at him and  Steve knows exactly what it sounds like. “I’m gonna go now” he says and starts stalking away.

 

“What the fuck?” Steve joggs after him and grabs his arm.

 

Bucky jolts around so suddenly it takes Steve off guard and he nearly trips over his own feet. He’s got this look on his face that can only be described as indignation and Steve knows he’s pissed him off.

 

“What the fuck? You’re the one saying what the fuck?” Bucky’s laugh is cynical and he pushes at Steve’s chest. “I was drunk, Steve, off my fucking face at a party and someone decided it would be funny to record it” he pokes at Steve, jabbs his finger hard into his chest, stormy grey eyes looking at him, “I got forced out of the closet and you having a go at me, you of all people,” he cries out, voice quacking, “is not helping. My dad’s silence and clear disgust is enough. So, please, fuck off” he says again and tries to walk but Steve’s hand is tight around his arm now. “Let go.”

 

“Bucky-”

 

“Don’t-” he says and when Steve still won’t let him go he rips himself out of Steve’s grasp and point a finger at him as if warning him to take another step.

 

“Can I talk?” Steve asks, hands in the air like Bucky’s aiming a gun at him.

 

“No.”

 

Steve sighs and feels everything within him just break, snap like twigs under his feet and they stand there as the snow falls around them like they’re alone, trapped in a snowglobe, when in reality there’s a bunch of people just inside of the door they both walked out of. They both can hear the bustle of life and music blasting over the speakers. Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve and Steve doesn’t let his gaze drop. He doesn’t move at all, he just looks at Bucky, the snow melting in Bucky’s hair and soaking them both as they just stand there like idiots. The words, “Please?” croaks from Steve’s lips and Bucky’s jaw tenses but he doesn’t tell Steve to fuck off so that’s a good sign. “I’m sorry.”

 

“For?” Bucky snaps.

 

“Having a go at you? You didn’t deserve that” Steve draws awkwardly in the wet snow with his shoe and feels the light headache of the alcohol settle. “I was jealous” he confesses.

 

“What?” Bucky snorts at this. Hands now in his pockets.

 

“Of Max.”

 

Bucky’s eyes are narrowed like he’s trying to figure Steve out. “You were jealous? Why?”

 

“Because he got to kiss you?” 

 

“You don’t want to kiss me” Bucky says like it’s the truest statement anyone has ever uttered.

 

Steve makes a face and lets out a tiny chuckle of duh, “Well…”

 

Bucky takes a step back, he looks at Steve suspiciously and tilts his head, “You’re dating Thor-”

 

Steve’s eyes widen. “Wha-”

 

“You’re dating Thor. Why would you-”

 

Steve pulse is rising, Bucky’s speaking muffled by the chaos in his head and before he knows it he spills, “I like you too, Buck” Steve says rushed and like he’s out of breath. “Me and Thor, we’re not dating.”

 

Bucky stops and frowns, he scans Steve’s face and looks more and more lost by the second, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You know what it means.”

 

“No, I don’t actually. Care to fill me in?” he snaps and folds his arms over his chest. He almost looks offended.

 

Steve licks his lips trying to find the right words when his mind is still a jumbled mess of unsaid words and emotions. “I’m not with Thor. We broke up before the break.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows rise slowly, Bucky’s face doesn’t change otherwise. 

 

“We ended it on good terms but he wasn’t… we didn’t work like that” Steve says and doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t miss Thor, but he misses being close to someone.

 

“Like what?” Bucky questions.

 

“You know.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Us! We didn’t work like us!” Steve gestures between them a little desperately, Bucky sucks in a breath. “You-” he sighs and runs his cold palms over his hot face and groans, “I like you.”

 

“You’ve said that already” Bucky says dryly and pockets his hands. “I don’t get it. You always seem to keep me at a distance, Steve. You pushed me away at that party, said you didn’t like guys and then you ended up dating Thor. I took that as ‘I don’t like Bucky’ instead of you ‘not liking guys’. I’m confused.”

 

It saddens Steve that Bucky thinks that he didn’t like him. “I do, I’ve liked you for a long time and that’s also one of the reasons why I broke it off with Thor. He knows, that I like you, by the way-”

 

“So, he knows but you didn’t care to tell me?”

 

“It’s hard!”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it’s real this time!” Steve nearly yells it out. He feels all his buttons getting pushed down, all at the same time and his mind is so close to just short circuit, “Alright!?” he groans and runs a hand over his face, voice quavering, “It’s real.”

 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, he just stands there looking out into the dark January night and Steve watches as he thinks, breath leaving him like fog and his body relaxing but his mind thinking so loud Steve can hear it in the way his foot moves across the pebbles on the ground. “I don’t know, Steve.”

 

_ What is it that he doesn’t know? _ Steve grows nervous, anxious that he’s messed up.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just so, so tired and this is all a bit too much. Why are you so slow, man?” Bucky chuckles and looks up at the sky. 

 

Steve feels his heart, guts, everything ache as he watches Bucky in the streetlight overhead, the background got snow falling around him and Steve wants nothing more than to take him home, wrap him up and kiss him. 

 

“You’re something, Rogers” Bucky sighs.

 

Steve feels like a child waiting for their parents to tell them their pet has died, “What does that mean?” he asks, fists balling and heart picking up rate again.

 

“It means we both obviously are massive idiots and it means I don’t know what to do about this-” he mimics Steve’s move from earlier and gestures between them, “I think  _ we _ should go home-”

 

“No, Bucky. I-”

 

“Hear me out, alright. We go home and then we meet up for coffee.”

 

Steve thinks that’s an awful lot of hours to keep him awake with  _ what if’s _ and whatever his mind will produce to maximize his fear of losing Bucky but he nods and swallows down his insecurity. “Ok, uhm…” he rubs the back of his neck, “That sounds good.”

 

“Yeah?” Bucky’s smiles sadly but it’s a smile nonetheless.

 

“Where you going now?” Steve asks, hoping that they’d get to walk home together, even though he’s not sure what good that would do. 

 

“Back to the dorm.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“You’re that way” Bucky pivots and picks up his guitar from the sidewalk and gestures down the path towards Steve and Sam’s dorm. 

 

“I am” Steve sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s looking at Bucky and tightening his embrace, wishing it was Bucky in his arms instead.

 

Bucky gives him a meek smile, that he can barely see in the pale of the silvery moonlight, “See you tomorrow, Steve.”

 

“See you, Bucky.”

 

*

 

Steve pulls off his jeans and then shuffles into bed, his belt clinks as his jeans hit the floor. The room is silent asides from Steve’s breathing. He lays on his back, staring at the terrible crown moulding on the ceiling and tries so hard not to think and just fall asleep. If he sleeps it’ll be tomorrow soon enough and he needs it to be tomorrow. ‘ _ Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think _ ’, swirls around his head like a mantra, he hopes that will distract him long enough just to fall asleep. He holds his breath until he feels dizzy, maybe if he holds it for long enough he’ll just pass out. 

 

Suddenly he hears a key turn in the lock and the door opens quietly and Sam slinks into the blackened room. He tip toes quietly through the room, trying not to disturb Steve, who’s now facing the wall. 

 

“You’re okay, I’m awake,” Steve mumbles into the concrete.

 

Sam makes a small noise in recognition and begins to undress, “You left quickly” he states quietly, his voice a harsh whisper.

 

Steve picks at a seam in his cover and sighs, “Yep.” He listens as Sam turns to hang his coat back on the hooks. Even though it’s dark and Steve is faced away from him, he can tell that Sam doesn’t want to look at Steve right now. Steve knows that Sam’s probably not even sure what to say, he knows that if the reason why Steve left was good, he wouldn’t be facing the wall of their dorm, in his boxers and sweater.

 

“Is that anything to do with Barnes?”

 

Steve doesn’t reply straight away, instead he turns back onto his back and looks up at the ceiling, “Yeah.”

 

Sam sits down on his bed, “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks quietly.

 

Steve makes a long exhale, it’s resigned and tinged with anxiety, “I do, but not yet.”

 

“Okay, Steve. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here.”

 

*

 

Steve wakes up at 12pm to an empty room. Sam had let him sleep, he really is a saint.

 

He checks his phone and finds a text from Bucky laying there unopened. He’d received it at 5:34am. There’s always a sense of sadness or desperation that comes with messages sent at that time. Nobody sends something at that time unless it’s burning through them and they just have to get it out or risk turning into flames themselves. 

 

Bucky:  _ I still want to talk _

 

For some reason the words hit him like a blow to the gut. There’s nothing sinister about the words but the  _ still _ indicates doubt. And for someone like Steve, feeling the way he does about someone like Bucky;  _ still _ feels like a heavy rock pressing down on his chest.

 

Steve looks at the message, tries to push away all the possible outcomes that comes to his mind before he responds.

 

Steve:  _ So do i  _

 

_ Buzz buzz,  _ Bucky responds almost immediately.

 

Bucky _ : Can we meet up somewhere off campus?  _

 

Steve:  _ Sure. There’s a nice italian bakery downtown. I’ll send you the address.  _

 

Bucky:  _ 2pm ok? _

 

Steve:  _ I’ll see you at 2 _

 

*

 

It’s a little before 2pm and Steve is sitting in the booth in the back of the bakery, his leg jittering with anticipation and his hands clammy from the uncertainty. The sunlight lights the red clay bricks like wildfire and framed prints of famous patrons hung upon them. Steve shifts the plates around, just slightly, just giving his idle hands something to do. He doesn’t want to eat or drink anything before Bucky arrives, a little bit because he doesn’t want to seem rude but mostly he didn’t want anything in his stomach in case he threw up the tiny little butterflies residing in there. 

 

Steve rolls up his red flannel sleeve and  glances at his watch, Bucky’s 10 minutes late. He starts picking at his pastry, taking small chunks between his fingers and then resting the pieces on the side of the plate rather than in his mouth. He takes a long sip of his black coffee and stares at Bucky’s milky, sugary monstrosity. Then, as if summoned by Steve glaring at Bucky’s cooling drink, Bucky appears, with a little jingle from the door as he walks through it. 

 

He smiles at Steve. Steve knows he’s smiling, even under the forest green scarf wrapped around his face like expensive gauze, he can tell by the way his eyes soften and suddenly Steve is the only person in the room. Bucky unwraps the scarf to reveal a beautiful but exhaustion weathered face, dark circles threatening the underside of his steel eyes. Bucky pulls the gloves from his hands and pushes them in his coat pocket as he approaches the table. 

 

Steve arises from the bench, rather too quickly and knocks the table with his thick legs. The residents of the table jump and jiggle, causing Bucky’s coffee to spill a little onto the varnished oak table.  

 

Steve looks at the coffee and then up at Bucky, “Oh shit, h-hi Buck.” He pauses and holds his hands out, like he’s entirely overwhelmed with the situation, “Uh, one sec.” Panicked he runs off to get a mound of tissue and when he comes back Bucky just rolls his eyes amused as he takes a few off Steve and they wipe up the mess together.

 

Once they both sit back down Steve smiles nervously and Bucky reprocriates it too. They’re both so obviously bad at this. 

 

“So, that was your coffee” he says and gestures to the spilled coffee. “I got you a cannoli too, I know how much you like them.”

 

Bucky shakes his head and looks at Steve like he can’t believe him, “You’re quite observant aren’t you?” he picks up the coffee and sips it. Suddenly, this is Bucky again, with his low voice and sly smile, talking like the first words he ever spoke were a pick up line. The Bucky accidently outed, who hides within himself and behind others was ancient history in this moment.  Steve can feel his heart flutter as Bucky winks at him and smiles like Steve is the only person he’s ever smiled for. 

 

“Thanks for the coffee and the cannoli” Bucky takes a careful bite out of it and hums in appreciation. “So good.”

 

“So,” Bucky drags and wipes at the corners of his mouth once he’s finished the pastry.

 

Steve looks at him like he’s the great Mona Lisa, he wants to trace Bucky’s face and paint it on every canvas. He watches Bucky in the golden light and feels his nerves calm, it feels like all is right in the world and that he doesn’t have to worry, which is worrisome in itself because this can’t be healthy. “So” Steve returns rather slyly.

 

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment and sighs Steve’s name, it comes out as if he’s longed to say his name out loud, like his name belongs on his tongue and he’s been holding it in for a lifetime. 

 

Steve takes a deep breath, bites nervously on his thumb’s edge and licks his lips nervously, “How are we gonna work this out?” he asks first and then, “I know it’s kinda old fashioned but I’d like to take you on a date” he reaches out to grab Bucky’s hand, warm and firm in his cold and nervous one, “Although, all  I’ve thought about is kissing you, and I don’t really want to entertain another minute where I’m not, if that’s okay?” he looks at Bucky, the words not right in his mouth and he regrets it the moment he sees Bucky’s expression falter.

 

“Steve, the thing is…” he moves his hand away and leans backwards, looking flustered, like he’s just been electrocuted and now he doesn’t look sure of anything, “I’m not ready?” he says it like a question and looks down into his lap where his hands now lay. “I shouldn’t have sung that song, I don’t know why I did.” he mutters and closes his eyes.

 

Steve doesn’t know what to reply, Bucky’s holding Steve’s heart in his palm and Steve can physically feel him squeeze it, hurting it. “Bucky?” his voice careful, cautious.

 

“I don’t-I’m not ready. All of this?” he gestures to Steve with a stressed expression, “I’m not ready.”

 

It truly feels as if Bucky’s breaking his heart. Steve can feel it bleed, can feel every beat on the surface of his skin and it feels like he’s going to throw up. “I don’t understand? I-I’m here Buck. I want you.”

 

“I’m sorry Steve, I shouldn’t have come here. This was a really bad idea,” he pushes his chair back and stands up a little clumsily, “I need to just be alone and sort my head out. I’ve been out for all of a week. I’m not ready Steve.”

 

When the words he knows he should say comes to mind and fall out he’s not sure that he means them, all he knows is that Bucky needs to hear them even if he’s in on breaking his own heart. “I understand” his words tinged with sadness as they enter the world. He doesn’t move back when Bucky grabs a hold of his hand from where he’s standing in the now cold winter sun.

 

“I knew you would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always, you are amazing!
> 
> If you want to know the song we sort of envisioned for Bucky's lil confession, it's Can I Stay by Ray LaMontagne 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UuGhWgEiIdw


	14. Reverse Faults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> avengingbucks basically wrote this whole chapter and she's amazing and I love her

 

Everything is the same except it's not.

 

Steve revels in the stress from his classes, whilst feeling like he’s a zombie both mentally and physically, he needs to keep himself occupied with something. He’s sweating it out a bit too aggressively in the gym to replace the hollow pain with physical pain, physical pain is something he’s always found a little more tolerable.

 

His painting is also a bit aggressive. There’s a lot of red and black but sometimes there’s just a whole lot of blue. Just all shades of blue and the human part of his art doesn’t look human at all. Natasha had commented on it, asked him if he was ok and he lied said he was just trying out something new but Steve knows that when his art goes blue it’s grief.

 

He's got nothing to grieve, not really. Nobody’s dead, but it sure as hell feels like it.

 

It’s been a while since he’s seen the rest of his friends, asides from Sam. He doesn’t see everyone that much and if they do it’s because they come by the coffee shop and he’s usually too busy taking orders to sit down and catch up. Natasha comes by to pick up orders the most, Bucky’s and hers usually and Steve just smiles tight lipped and tells her to tell Bucky that he said hi. She’s always uncomfortable doing it.

 

He’s walking in the hallway to the cafeteria one day when Sam catches up with him from behind and smiles one of his bright smiles that gives away that he’s having a good day.

 

“Hi!”

 

Steve nods, “What’s up?” he looks at his best friend, his frown heavy on his face like it’s become permanent.

 

Sam stops smiling. “You having lunch?”

 

“I am.”

 

“You haven’t seen?”

 

“What?”

 

“The art in the hallways?”

 

Steve’s frown only deepens, if that’s even possible. “No? What are you talking about?” he had just walked out of the atelier and seen nothing. “Where?”

 

“In the art classroom corridors. I mean, your art is up there. Did you not know?”

 

Steve thinks about the paintings that he’s given to his professors, he’s only handed in three pieces, two of them has been returned and-

 

Sam must notice the way Steve stills, pales and sucks in a breath. “You know which one?”

 

“Do you know how long it’s been up there?” Steve asks and starts pounding towards where Sam said the art would be. His heart feels like it's going to fall out of his ass, he nearly falls down the stairs when he rushes down them.

 

“No idea” Sam responds as he follows. “I just saw them, I don’t think they were up yesterday.”

 

Steve looks at him from the corner of his eye and speeds up, “Fuck.”

 

When they get to the corridor it's decorated with so much art from Steve’s class and he frantically looks for the one that shouldn’t be there. People are looking, smiling and pointing out of admiration and awe at the artworks. It doesn’t take long before he spots Clint, Natasha, Tony, Thor and Val. He freezes when he sees the painting on the wall but like melting snow he makes a move to take it down from the wall.

 

“Hey Steve, that is amaz- what are you doing?” Clint asks and everyone looks at him as he tries to take it down. It won’t budge.

 

“I’m taking it down,” he wiggles it again, he stops, not wanting to make even more of a scene.

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s-” he cuts himself off, the stabbing pain in his heart and numbing in his body returns and he grits his teeth as he thinks to himself; It’s personal. He doesn’t turn his back to face them, the blue-grey eyes stare at him, the familiar jaw and strands of hair can’t be that distinguished in the strokes of paint. A part of him wants to turn around and yell at them to stop looking. He’d been so obviously falling for Bucky and he put it down on a canvas. In the corner of his eye, Nat appears. Her dainty hand on his arm, a soft apologetic smile on her face as she helps him take it down.

 

“Why take it down?” Val asks and Steve can hear Thor tell her softly that ‘ _Maybe Steve didn’t mean for everyone to see_ ’ and he’s right. So painfully right.

 

Steve might just as well have been shot in the back. He stuffs the painting under his arm and Nat is back with her hands but this time they’re trying to hold him back. “Don’t go,” she tells him but he shakes his head. He can’t be here, not now. “Steve” her tone pleading.

 

“I need to go,” he sighs and he doesn’t dare to lift his gaze from the floor before he walks away. Sam follows in pursuit and doesn’t say anything.

 

Steve skips the rest of the day.

 

He feels like the weather outside: the simple absence of everything. He can hear the gravel beneath the students feet outside and the typing on Sam’s computer. There’s a faint sound of the violin coming from the music department, it’s low and out of tune and it’s as sad and miserable as the weather. Steve grabs a pillow and puts it over his face.

 

Sam stops typing. “You need anything?” he asks casually.

 

“A bullet” Steve’s answer is muffled by the pillow and he groans audiby into it. “I hate feeling like this. I hate feeling.”

 

“I could fetch you some pizza.”

 

Steve removes the pillow and turns so he’s lying on his stomach, he can see the corner of the canvas from the corner of his eye, he groans and turns away again. “Pizza doesn’t fix everything, Sam.”

 

“Have you tried?” Sam laughs.

 

“Did you see the way they all looked at me today?” Steve pulls out a thread from his linen and sulks. “I can’t believe they put it up on the damn wall. It said in the assignment that it would not be showcased or made public because it was based on personal shit.”

 

“Steve” Sam sighs and laughs like he can’t believe his friend, “You know that all of your paintings are personal, right?” he quirks a brow. “You don’t even paint an apple without transferring some personal meaning to it. You painted a dead flower once and you cried. Like, maybe they mixed up your hand-ins, returned the wrong one and somehow Bucky ended up on the wall.”

 

He’s got a point, Steve admits and groans once more into the pillow wanting it to eat him alive. “I fucked everything up” he croaks out and he hears the padding of Sam’s feet against the floor. “I shouldn’t have pushed him away at the party. I shouldn’t have started dating Thor. God,” he sits up in his bed and wipes furiously and frustratedly at his eyes, “I’m so fucking stupid!” he balls his fists and closes his eyes. “I hate this!”

 

“Hey, big guy. Stop beating yourself up, alright. You made a few mistakes. You weren’t ready back then and he’s the one pushing you away now. It’s not just your fault. Barnes got his demons and you got yours.” Sam sits down on Steve’s bed and pulls him into a strong sideway hug and holds Steve. “You’ve been beating yourself up for what is it now? Two weeks?” Steve nods, “And it’s frankly pissing me off because you haven’t done that before. You’ve been a grumbling man but not a miserable shell of one. So, what are you going to do about it?”

 

“What?” Steve sniffles, not understanding. “What I’m gonna do?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I don't know?” he admits helplessly. “I feel so drained, Sam. I’m done.”

 

“You’re not drained, you’ve bottled up your emotions for years. This is just the result of you going a bit off the rails. And I don’t think Bucky is in any better frame of mind either?”

 

Steve stares at the wall and feels instantly calmer as if Sam’s words were the saying to break a bad spell. “You’re right.”

 

“What was that?” Sam asks, surprise in his voice. “Come again?”

 

Steve grins at Sam and sighs,“You’re right. We’re both insecure I guess, and I was intense. I was ready to blurt out ‘I love you’,” he  runs a hand over his red blotchy face, “I got to talk to him.”

 

“Do you?” Sam nudges Steve’s shoulder, his brown eyes soft with compassion.

 

“What?” Steve can feel his lips part as his mouth goes dry.

 

Sam gives him a look and, “Love him?”

 

Steve doesn’t know if he loves Bucky. He definitely loves certain parts of him like the steel blue of his eyes and his voice, smoother than molten silk, but there’s so much more that Steve would love to discover about him. What’s his favorite song, what does it remind him of? What does he like to do on rainy Friday nights, when the wind is bitter and the bed is warm? What movie makes him cry, even when the titles haven’t begun to roll? “I don’t love him,” Steve sighs, “But I might if he’d let me.”

 

It seems to be a good answer because Sam claps his back and gets up from the bed. “I’m ordering pizza and then I’m getting beer.”

 

Steve smiles and once again he’s grateful for his friend. He chuckles and shakes his head as he thinks about how ridiculous he gets when he’s emotional and vulnerable, even though he knows it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

 

Outside the light has begun to die, the streetlamps around campus creating little pools of eerie light but at the same time the warm lights from the dorms making it more comforting, reminding Steve of lives outside his own.

 

Steve lies back down on the bed trying to think out a plan on how to approach Bucky, he turns his head and his gaze falls upon his painting, Bucky’s eyes staring back at him like they’ve done over the last couple of months every time Steve closes his eyes.

 

He turns in his bed and fetches his phone where his finger lingers on Bucky’s contact.

 

Steve: _Can I call you?_

 

He watches the open message for minutes before he decides to let it be.

 

*

 

He leaves it for a few days, a bit hurt that Bucky won’t respond with a single yes or no. He dries dialling him after three days of worrying that something might be wrong. It goes straight to voicemail.

 

“Still not answering?” Sam asks as they sit in the cafeteria and Steve looks out of the window while spacing out. “Steve?”

 

“No” he says and frowns while dipping his carrot in hummus. “I’m not desperate” he says and Sam gives him a look, “I’m worried. There’s a difference.”

 

“Go over there and see if he’s alright? Tell him that he can tell you to fuck off if he wants too.”

 

“Alright, jeez” Steve rolls his eyes, “I will go over there. Tony’s security system might have a trap door but I just… need to talk to him. I don’t know what I’ll say but I just feel like it's important.”

 

“You should. I just want you to stop moping, please” Sam shrugs and takes a bite out of his sandwich. “I gotta read. I’m so close to dropping out. It’s boring now.”

 

“Oh come on” Steve chuckles. “You’ll nail this, Sam. You’re just tired.”

 

“Hell yeah, I’m tired. I got to keep you somewhat sane and then I got to make sure I don’t fail this course.”

 

“I, thank you” Steve grabs his bags. “I’ll call later if, if it all goes horribly wrong.”

 

“Go get him, Rogers.” Sam grins.

 

“I’ll try.”

 

*

 

The walk to Tony’s house is not really a long one, it just seems that way with the way the ice has covered the entire road. Steve manages to get to the porch safe and sound but once he stands there, looking up at the door that seems so much larger than it usually does he would rather take his chances and fall on his ass on the ice than face what’s inside.

 

He doesn’t have the chance to open the door before someone else does and suddenly he’s face to face with Bruce, who takes a step back in surprise.

 

“Steve?” he says, scarf wrapped around his face and glasses fogging up. “What are you doing here?”

 

“He’s here to see Bucky, obviously” Tony says from behind Bruce and nudges his friend to the side. “You’ve been in India and haven’t even begun experience the shit that’s gone on this holiday season, Banner. Skidaddle off to the library already” Tony shakes his head and ignores the unbelieving look Bruce shoots him.

 

“What?” he looks at Steve. “What have I missed?”

 

“A lot” Steve and Tony says at the same time.

 

“Children,” he holds his hands up. “I’m this close to being done with college and you guys won’t make the last of it miserable. Tony, heat up the soup when I call later. Thanks and bye. See you around, Steve.”

 

“See ya, Bruce” Steve smiles at him and then he’s left alone with Tony and his… robe? “You’re in a robe” he states dumbly and Tony rolls his eyes but leaves the door open for Steve to follow him inside.

 

“You’re very observant, aren’t you?” Tony shoots him a look over his shoulder and then he stops in his tracks to turn and look at Steve with a tilted head and an analyzing expression. “You’re not very smart.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“He’s not really in the mood to have visitors and I bet you’re on the bottom of that list, Rogers.”

 

“What did I do?” Steve asks a little offended and tries to think back to what he said to Bucky. “What did he tell you?”

 

“He’s told none of us nothing!” Tony hisses and looks over his shoulder as if Bucky’s gonna be right behind him, “Except that he might be transferring to NYU so he can live with his mother and sister.”

 

Steve’s heart drops, “He what now?”

  
“Is all he’s said to us the last couple of weeks. He’s like a…” Tony’s shoulders slump and he walks closer to Steve. “He’s like a ghost. I haven’t seen him this fucking low in years, Steve.”

 

The worry that had already manifested within him has now grown to something he can barely handle and he needs to talk to Bucky immediately, “Where is his room?”

 

“I don’t think you should-”

 

“Where?” Steve interrupts annoyed. “You might live here but I’m just gonna talk to him for a little bit and if he wants me gone, I’ll go. I just need to talk to him.”

 

Tony looks at him, protectiveness radiating from him like a lion protecting one of its own. “First room to the right up the stairs.”

 

*

 

Steve knows the difference between organized mess and a hoarder.

 

Bucky’s room is maximalistic with photos scattered on the walls in a various different types of frames, there’s a couple of drawings of random things and it’s obvious that he’s a people watcher the way he’s sketched people from different places. There’s bottles of beer and cans scattered about along with empty takeout boxes that’s not exactly diffusing the room with the greatest smell. Steve ignores it. He sees that Bucky’s taped a few sheets of what looks like self-composed notes and lyrics around on the forest green walls. Steve can’t help but walk over to a few of them, not snooping, just having a little look, and finds that most of the lyrics are quite personal. Painfully so too, so he averts his gaze to find Bucky sleeping under blankets and a cover.

 

“Oh Buck” he sighs and runs a hand over his face.

 

There’s at least six guitars, hanging or lying about. Steve spots the one that Bucky’s always got with him. Tired and worn but with shiny new strings.

 

Bucky’s whole life is in this room. Steve notices the journals on the old teak desk, he sees the collection of mugs standing on a shelf and another shelf next to that holds a collection of records that Steve wants to know more about. The plants look sad, dried out by the sunlight currently streaming in from the massive window, it almost feels like spring until Steve remembers the icy road outside. He just wants to reach out and-

 

“Steve?” Bucky croaks out and perches up on his elbows. His cover sliding off of him exposing his bare chest. “What are you doing here?” he question a little dazed.

 

“I-” Steve takes a moment to gather his thoughts, “I’ve been worried.”

 

Bucky sniffles and sits up so he can stretch out his back and then he nods, knowingly and then, to Steve’s surprise, he smiles and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been worried too” he looks around in his own room and sighs, “I think I’m depressed or something.”

 

Steve laughs, tears threatening to spill because he’s so relieved to see that Bucky’s sort of ok and not gone off to somewhere and that Steve won’t ever see him again. He wipes at his eyes when he feels the wetness in the corner of his eyes and he stops when Bucky says his name. “What?”

 

“Can we talk?” Bucky asks and Steve nods. “I’ve had ah, a bit of a hard time when it comes to the whole video with Max thing. My father decided to… throw me out I guess?” Bucky says it like the words don’t feel right and he looks away. “Turns out he’s not just an asshole he’s homophobic too. So, I went over there to fetch a few books and then I found my room cleared out and he's refusing to pay for college and the dorm,  hence why I'm here. He left a note my dog was at the neighbours until I could find someone that could take care of her, Mom,” Bucky chuckles but breaks a little, “she took her in?” Bucky closes his eyes, “But I feel so shit and gross and I don’t really know what to do because even if he was an asshole he was my home for years. Enya doesn’t mind being at mom’s but everything was happening at once and then I pushed you away and then I, then I- ”

 

“Buck” Steve says and Bucky looks up at him like everything has been drained from him. “I’m sorry” he walks over to Bucky and when Bucky makes room for him on the bed he sits down at the end by his legs. “I’m sorry if I became too much.”

 

“It’s ok. I just wish I hadn’t… freaked out.”

 

They sit in silence, Steve can feel the tension rise like a heat blanket. He’s not sure if it is the steaming sun from outside or if Bucky’s finally decided on something. Steve is almost too afraid to look at him but when he does he meets nothing but a pair of blue eyes already staring at him. “Buck?”

 

Bucky leans forward and kisses Steve quickly before he sits back and takes a deep breath, regret already replacing his brave look, “I should-”

 

Steve surges at him, grabs him by the back of his neck to press their lips together in a crushing kiss. He moves further up the bed to make it more comfortable and Bucky grabs him back like his life has been given back to him. Steve feels like his whole world had been waiting for this moment again and -

 

“Steve-” Bucky breathes and breaks the kiss by pressing his forehead against Steve’s. “Wait.”

 

“What?” Steve can’t help but feel like he’s teetering on a knife edge.

 

“I smell so bad.”

 

Steve sighs in abject relief, he grins and shakes his head,“I don’t care.”

 

“I do!” Bucky snorts and smells his armpit. “I’ve not left this bed for like a week, unless I’ve needed the toilet. I smell _really_ bad.”

 

“It could’ve been the dishes in your room. I couldn’t tell.” Steve shrugs and laughs.

 

“Shut up!” Bucky rolls his eyes and pushes at Steve. “I like you” he smiles but it's a sad one, like he’s not really supposed to say it. “I like you a lot.”

 

“I like you too.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Its ok.” Steve smiles, stroking Bucky’s hair.

 

“It’s not though, is it? We’ve both had our struggles to get here and I don’t want to mess it up this time.” Bucky peers up from his position to look at Steve.

 

“I’m with you if you want it.”Steve says decidedly, not breaking eye contact with Bucky. He wants to tell Bucky that he’s with him to the ends of the earth, that he’d fight countries for him, topple regimes and build it all again for him.

 

“Yeah?” Bucky croaks, his eyes lighting up. Steve hopes that’s because he can see the pure adoration on his own face beaming through his skin.

 

“Do you want this?” Steve asks, hope rising within him.  He looks at Bucky and sees past the tired shell that’s usually is so vibrant and strong.

 

“More than you could ever know.” Bucky sighs, making no effort to hide the fact that he’s looking at Steve like Steve had created every wonder in the universe just for him.

 

“I have a feeling that’s not true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we couldn't leave you with the angst for too long! thankyou for your comments and your readership, it means so much!


	15. Strange Powers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit rating is very much at play here

“Hi, Steve.”

Steve’s head snaps up from the milk pot he is shining with his apron. Katie Thompson is standing in front of him, a handful of coins jingling in her gloved hand as she lays it on the counter.

“Hey Katie” Steve smiles and places the jug on the counter with a click. She looks tentative, exhausted and embarrassed, her brown eyes quivering like she’s on the cusp of crying.

Her voice is barely a mumble when she speaks, “Can I please get a black coffee? I haven’t got the-”

Steve interrupts, going to place his hand over her own holding the change, he waits to see if she wants to pull away, she doesn’t so he clasps it over hers with careful compassion and a soft smile on his lips, “Kate, it’s fine. It’s a dollar.”

She releases the tension in her shoulders and Steve is pretty sure if she wasn’t about to cry before, that she is about a hair away from crying now, “Ah,” she sniffles and nods her head as if it’ll help to compose herself, “Steve you’re something. Thank you!” she gives him a watery smile, a quivery one, as he pats her hand again.

Steve turns to pour a black filter coffee in a large to go cup, he fills it to the point that it threatens to spill all over his white t-shirt.

“I lost my purse,” she says behind him, “and then on the bus, there was this guy…. and I’m rambling. She waves it off as Steve turns to look at her again. “You’ve just made my terrible day less terrible.” She takes the coffee from Steve’s large hand. He cautions her to be careful and she sips at the extremely hot coffee.

“It’s no problem at all. If you need a ride home or anything- I don’t have a car” he chuckles and quirks a brow, “but I’m strong enough for piggy backs!”

She chuckles lightly and takes another drink from the coffee. It makes Steve’s warm for a moment knowing that her day was now slightly less awful.

“I’m okay Steve, I live on campus,” she pours her change into the tip jar, it’s a bigger gesture than Steve could have thought and it hits him in the chest like a train at full speed. She smiles meekly at him and begins to walk away, “Thank you, again.”

As Steve’s eyes follow her towards the door, he spots Bucky hovering by the potted plants, like he’s hiding in the spidery foliage. His hair is clean and pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck and his usual mummifying scarf has been replaced with an a esatic tooth filled grin.

Bucky takes a few long strides up to the counter, his long legs making easy work of the distance between them. “Steve” he sighs shaking his head.

“Bucky, hi!” Steve chirps, not quite managing to latch onto Bucky’s tone.

“You’re like the perfect man aren’t you?”

“Uh” Steve spins on his heels to begin turning the labels on the display soda cans, he can’t look at Bucky when he can feel his face burning like hot coal, “What?”

Bucky leans over the counter to pull at the strings on Steve’s apron, it undoes and is left hanging loosely around Steve’s neck. He turns around, and Bucky gives him a little satisfied grin now that he has his attention. “Say yes or I’ll tell the rest of the campus that the cute barista in the Split Bean will give you free coffee if you ask nicely.”

Steve still looks at him dumbfounded.

Bucky exhales and looks at Steve like he’s just saved his life, “You’re too good for this world, I swear.”

Steve always try to do what’s right, people often think he’s just a rule abider, people that don’t know him well that is. Steve’s always viewed rules as kind of flexible, flexible in the right hands and he’s always thought of him pretty capable with his hands. Steve creases his brow and gives his head a little shake and snorts lightly, “I’m not.”

Bucky turns around and begins to spread his arms like he’s the town crier about to announce that the king is handing out free cooked geese at his palace.

“Fine, fine!” Steve grabs Bucky’s arm and pulls him around and back, “I’m the greatest person who ever lived. I don’t know, does that suffice you?” he says amused.

Bucky swivels around to face Steve again, fully placted, “Yep!” He crosses his arms over his sweatered chest and then runs them down his torso as if he’s pleased with himself for something and he’s showing himself off to Steve, and it’s not  _not_  working.“So, I’m alive” he grins.

“That’s always good news,” Steve laughs but he’s secretly rejoicing inside. Seeing Bucky hauled up in his dank room, surrounded by plates and sadness wasn’t the easiest thing for Steve to witness. He’ll tell Bucky how proud he is of him for pulling himself out, just not right now, now’s not the time.

Bucky places both his palms on the counter as if he’s showing him his final hand of cards, “I came here cause I wanna to take you on a date, like a date  _date_.”

Steve claws at the back of his apron to do it up again, “What do you mean making out in your bed didn’t count as a date?”

Bucky scoffs and leans in slightly, “For it to be legally counted as a date I have to at least start the night wearing pants.”

Steve quirks his eyebrow and licks his lips, “Start the night?”

“Mmhmm” Bucky purrs, mirroring Steve’s lip wetting.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, the air is so charged Steve swears he can see a light bulb flicker.

“I’m picking you up tonight at 7:30.”

“I never said I’d like to go, you just assumed,” Steve raises his eyebrows again and smirks at his potential date.

Bucky gives up whatever bashfulness he had left swimming around inside of him, “I wrote a weird ballad about you and you painted a masterpiece of me, I think we’re past that coy  _will they won’t they_  bullshit.”

Steve suddenly feels like he’s choking on his own spit, he can’t believe that Bucky saw that painting and secondly he can’t believe he recognised himself. Maybe it was easy for him, he could pick out the flecks of red in his hair or the deep cleft of his chin, like looking in a particularly sad mirror. He said he liked it though and that has to be worth something.

“Okay, what should I wear?” Steve asks the man who he’s only just realised is his muse. God, he wants to capture that smile on canvas dancing in oils.

Bucky shrugs and begins buttoning up his jacket again, “Clothes, I don’t know Steve. Something without paint stains. I’ve gotta go now.” He heads towards the door and gives Steve a back handed wave, “See you, Stevie.”

“See you later, jerk!” he calls back out and completely ignores the other customers curious and amused grins.

 

*****

Studying is difficult at the best of times, Steve’s always been more of a practical person a man of actions and careful doodles on his lecture notes. He glances over at the clock, it’s 5:54pm and time is moving like a goldfish is a bowl of treacle. He even tries watching Netflix but even that’s a bust, there’s a particularly steamy sex scene during his episode of  _Narcos_  and all that does is get Steve thinking about sex himself. He gets slightly hot under the collar as he puts his phone down on his neglected textbook atop of a pile of sketches of Sam.

Steve never had sex with Thor. The thought was there, of course, in the back of his mind he’d pictured Thor fucking him senseless on multiple occasions but everytime they got close, Steve’s heart sank and it just didn’t feel right. Luckily, Thor never got mad at Steve and told him that it was ok. That’d Steve should just take his time and that it was important that he was comfortable.

Honestly, Steve just wanted it to be more than a quickie in the bathrooms or on a drunken night after a party.

The last time he had sex was with Peggy. Sex with Peggy was something spectacular. Steve wanted to do everything in his power to please her, he’d pull down the moon with a lasso if she wanted him to. He remembers the first time he had sex with her, seventeen and eager, they’d waited to do it and looking back now he’s glad they did. It was passionate and intense if not a little awkward at first. He remembers the heat of her around him and the way she’d gasp, swear and nip bruises into Steve’s neck. The first time was great, but the next hundred were even better.

It was especially great when he came over to Peggy’s empty house to find her in her bedroom with a leather harness strapped to her and a thick purple dildo through it. Steve could feel his mouth go dry and the blood run south just by looking at her. Of course they’d talked about it and Steve had tried with himself before, he even had a dildo of his own hidden in his sock drawer. Peggy found it one day and immediately initiated a ridiculous makeout session, working him open with her fingers and making utility of Steve's sock drawer friend. When it came toPeggy stepping into her leather harness, her choice of cock was a little bigger than what Steve was used to, it filled him so tight he almost came before they even got started,  _almost_. By some grace of God he held on and she held him down and fucked him until he couldn’t remember his name.

Maybe he shouldn’t have told Sam ‘ _that’s why they call her Peggy_ ’, because it wasn’t, but it should have been.

Just the memory of their times well spent, in his opinion, has him closing his book and leaning forward on his desk trying to calm the heated train of thoughts. He runs a cool hand through his hair, he sighs and closes his eyes for a second but the moment he does all he can think about how fucking good it was. The way she’d take care of him, her hands soft but strong. She handled him like he was nothing but at the same time everything. When it came down to everything, Peggy was special. She was nothing but good to him and the only messy part about their breakup was the tears and snot shared as she travelled back to England.

He hasn't had his cock inside someone for so long and to be honest he’d rather have one inside of him. He wouldn't mind fucking Bucky, he'd like it quite a lot, but the thing is, Steve would very much like it if Bucky would fuck him. The image in his head makes his cock harden the more he tries not to think about it.

Quickly he grabs the phone out of his pocket and texts Sam.

Steve:  _When will you be back?_

He holds his breath as he watches the speech bubble awaiting for Sam’s answer.

“Please don’t walk through the door, please, please…” he chants to no one but himself.

_Buzz buzz_

Sam:  _Late. I've got a date actually_

Steve:  _Cool have fun!_

Steve gets up from his chair and takes the steps towards the door in a few strides before he locks it and draws the curtains shut. The blood is pounding in his ears, his hands nearly shaking from anticipation and once he knows for a sure that no one can sneak a peak at him, he slides out of his sweatpants and lies down on the bed in nothing but his red and black paint stained t-shirt. He’s already half-hard, his cock twitching as he gets more comfortable on the bed and slowly he lets his hand slide across his belly and then he curls his cold fingers around the shaft.

It’s been a while since he felt horny enough to masturbate. With the stress from everything over the last couple of weeks he has simply not given it much thought. Until now - all he can think about is how much he’s wanted Bucky to fuck him until Steve knows nothing but Bucky’s name on his tongue.

“Fuck” he hisses as the sensation thrills through his body like a Californian wildfire, chasing him out of the hibernation he's been stuck in. He swallows down his moans, strokes himself until his thighs starts shaking and he edges himself on until it almost becomes too much, it doesn't take long before he’s close. There’s a part of him that’s shy even when he’s alone, there’s a paranoid goblin on his shoulder telling him that someone is watching but when Steve arches his back to look around for the briefest of seconds he’s still alone. Sam hasn’t magically appeared and no one has hacked his phone. It’s just him and his need for release and he slides his hand further down until he slowly starts to work himself open, one finger slowly pushing in, testing. The tiny moans escaping him resembles whimpering, his eyes are still closed and fuck, he wishes it was Bucky who did this, not himself. He pushes the finger in and arches his back again but this time in pleasure and pain. It’s been a while, it’s been too long and- “Fuck me!” he cries out as his long finger brushes against his prostate, “Ahhh” he shivers with the sensation, he adds another and fucks himself until he can feel the orgasm beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach again. He doesn’t mean to say it but it falls of his lips like it belongs, “Bucky” he pants, words strained as he comes hard for the first time in weeks.

Minutes pass by and Steve just lies there in his bed staring at the ceiling coming down from his orgasm. It all feels a little dull now. What if sex with Bucky won't happen? What if he doesn't want to have sex? Steve would be ok with that but what if? As the first five stretches into the first ten, he’s starting to feel shame rather than blissfully happy so he gets off the bed, grabs the nearest towel and gets into the shower so he can clean himself up before Sam actually walks in, maybe even with a girl on his arm.

“Jesus” Steve grunts and leans against the tiles in the too small shower that barely fits his large body. He feels ridiculous. He just fingered himself to the memory of Peggy and to the anticipation of Bucky. He doesn't have the chance to stop his train of thoughts before he's picturing Peggy fucking him and Bucky too, being in on it together. The thought of them ordering him around has him achingly hard again. “Fuck…” he mutters and jerks his already sensitive cock off again. He's really managed to open the flood gates tonight, after weeks of feeling completely numb.

When he comes out of the shower he feels something close to content, satisfied and sleepy. He thinks about the conversation he had earlier with Bucky and the butterflies bounce nervously but excitedly around in his stomach. Should he shave? He swipes a hand across the steamed up mirror and runs a hand over the thick hairs covering his face. Last time he shaved was for the holidays, the scruff is becoming nearly a beard again. He picks up the razor and smears his face in with the shaving cream. Slowly he starts to shave, the blades runs smoothly over his skin and he’s being careful not to nick himself, or so he thought until he accidentally nicks the underside of his Adam’s apple, leaving a tiny mark but it looks like he just tried to slit his throat open with how the blood mixes with the cream and water, “Fuck!” he hisses and puts a cloth to it before finishing up.

He looks like an artist, a homeless one that can afford to shave but he feels a bit ridiculous with a baby smooth face and long hair. Maybe he can ask Sam to cut the ends a bit. Like old times. He can hear the door to their dorm open and the shuffle of Sam dropping his backpack on the floor, he could ask now.

Steve bounds out of the bathroom, holding a towel that would have been too small even when he was tiny, around his waist. “Hey Sam, can you do me a favour?” he halts when he sees that his best friend isn’t alone. “Oh!” Sam and a blonde girl are sitting on Sam’s bed. They’re not doing anything inconspicuous, they’re just talking although they’re looking at him like he’s caught them in the middle of something. They both peer up at Steve, who is still very much half naked, he could have caught them making out and he would have felt less embarrassed than he does now, bright red, bloody and pretty much naked.

“You must be The Steve” the blonde girls announces. There’s something about the way she holds herself, confident and oozing with everything she needs to back it up. It reminds Steve of Peggy.

“The Steve?” he questions, wondering where on earth she’d heard about him, from Sam or around campus. He runs a hand through his wet hair before replying, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I’m Sharon,” she nods and smiles, keeping her eyes on his blotchy face.

“Oh! Hi!” he recognises the name, she is from Sam’s class. The one who took the sexist professor down a peg or two when he said that women only need to study until they find a rich husband.

“Please don’t offer to shake her hand” Sam pokes and stares at Steve’s hand clinging to the towel. “Don’t.”

Sharon chuckles and shakes her head at their interaction. “Alright” she says and touches Sam’s thigh before removing it again, “Sam, I’m gonna head out. I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” she smiles softly and, “I had a lovely time.” She stands up and heads to the door, looking over her shoulder at Sam, beckoning him over with her eyes.

Steve can’t help but smirk as Sam scurries towards the door after her and they share a soft kiss before they both look at each other like they hung the moon. He was starting to get worried that Sam was only about his studies but look at him go, he thinks to himself with a fond smile. He looks away when Sam looks over his shoulder.

“Steve can you not do that?” Sam asks.

“Do what?”

He gestures to all of Steve and shakes his head before plopping down onto his bed again once Sharon has left. “To be honest, I wasn’t worried. She’s not your type.”

Steve grimaces, “What? just because I’m into Buc-”

“No, you dimwit, she’s blonde!”

“Oh yeah!” Steve hums and thinks about it. Sharon is attractive but definitely not Steve’s type. “Yeah, you’re right.” Steve walks over to his bed where he finds a pair of clean boxers and gets dressed in one of his best pairs of jeans and a new clean t-shirt, without stains and nods at himself in the mirror. “Speaking of Bucky, he’s picking me up at 7:30.”

“Oh is he now?” Sam wiggles his eyebrows.

Steve grins like a fucking moron. “I was wondering if you could maybe cut my hair a little bit so I don’t look like a homeless person?”

“Do you want me to check your back for spots too?”

“Sam!” Steve throws the towel at his friend who shrieks.

 

*

The whole ‘wear anything that isn't paint stained’ is making Steve a bit… nervous. Not because he doesn't own anything that isn't stained with every color but did Bucky mean a shirt or is this t-shirt ok? What if Bucky shows up in a fancy suit? He hears the knock and whirls around from the mirror so fast he nearly trips over the piles of shoes behind him.

“He’s here!” Sam says from where he's opened the door and Steve is right there behind him rolling his eyes.

“Go away” Steve mumbles and pushes a giddy Sam away. Bucky stands there, in his beautiful coat and hair partially loose but it's been put up neatly in a bun. Steve can't help but smile at him, the warm feeling in his chest stretching all over him like a blanket. Then he sees the nice button up shirt and feels underdressed in his t-shirt. “Come inside. I need-I got to change.”

Bucky smiles amused and gives Steve a shrug that says ‘alright’.

He rushes to his tiny wardrobe and pulls out a nice pale blue shirt. As he changes he pauses, arms in the air and head through the fabric and overhears Sam and Bucky’s conversation.

“So, you two finally got it together?” Sam asks, munching on something.

“Yeah” Bucky says with a tiny sigh. “Well, sorta?”

Steve can imagine his stupid grin. He gets into his shirt and walks out to find Bucky indeed smiling like he got his money’s worth or got a secret to tell. He looks smug, that’s for sure.

“Damn you look so fucking hot” Bucky says while looking at Steve, eyes trailing up and down before he meets Steve gaze and holds it. There’s something in the way he looks at him, like he’s ready to eat Steve on the spot.

Sam clears his throat and grimaces, eyes wide and face double chinning.

“I mean, you scrub up well, Rogers” Bucky corrects himself and looks away.

Steve stutters out a thanks before excusing himself to walk over to his desk to pick up something. Truth is that he’s already got a boner and he need to readjust himself before walking out of the door. He grabs his coat and then, “I’m ready.”

“Have him home by 9, Barnes” Sam snickers from his bed with his books as per usual scattered around him.

“Will do!” Bucky smiles and looks directly at Steve, “I’ll also make sure he behaves himself tonight.” It’s clear that Bucky’s brought his A game tonight and Steve can’t help but think that if he keeps looking at him like that he’ll need to pop rather than to just adjust his boner.

“Alright,” Sam says and shakes his head at the two of them, “Have fun and get out.”

Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s lower back and guides them out and once the door is locked behind them Bucky chuckles and lets out a relieved sigh.

“Well?

“You look good, really good” he tells Steve as they walk out of the dorms. “You’re ridiculously handsome it’s annoying in, a very good way, the best way.”

“Oh?” Steve can’t stop smiling as they push out of the hallway.

January's have always had a bad rep, Steve thought as they step out into the damp night, their boots squelching in occasional puddles as they walk through campus. January always signified that Christmas is over, the weather is darker and wetter and everyone is always a little fatter. Instead, Steve always liked to view January as something a little different, a new beginning, the chance to change and grow. He likes to think of it as pre-spring and as he glances over at Bucky illuminated by the warm street lamps, their glow bouncing across the red brick college buildings, he knows he’s right.

Bucky looks over at him, his lips parted in thought, “So, have you and Sam ever fucked?”

Steve laughs, nearly chokes on it, primarily because Bucky interrupted his poetic train of thought with something undeniably Bucky. “No, why would you even ask that?”

“I mean because I have eyes and Sam is hot?” Bucky shrugs like the whole thing is pretty obvious.

Steve pockets his hands and shivers at the thought, “It would literally be like fucking my brother.”

Bucky scoots a little ahead of Steve, his stray hairs bouncing as he gets ahead and turns around, “But like if he wasn’t, would you?”

Steve takes a breath and looks up at Bucky walking backwards in front of him, “Obviously.” Bucky nods triamphauntly like he’s just discovered fire. “So your way of flirting with me is asking me if I’d fuck my best friend?”

There’s no pause, “It got you thinking about fucking didn’t it?”

Steve crosses his arms in defense and he can feel his face heat up like he’d fallen asleep in the summer sun, “I mean, yeah.”

“That means it worked” Bucky waggles his eyebrows. It’s not supposed to be sexy but unfortunately Steve finds everything Bucky does sexy, it’s a curse really.

Bucky hangs back again, levelling his pace with Steve’s. They walk in silence, their boots tapping on the ground and the sound of other people’s conversations humming in the background. The air is still damp and clean, like the spray of the sea had reached all the way to their city campus. Bucky hesitantly reaches down Steve’s arm, he toys with the button on Steve’s coat, his fingers chaste around the button until Steve curls his own fingers up to Bucky’s exploritary hand. Bucky slides his hand into Steve’s, careful at first, until Steve’s own long fingers clasps into Bucky’s like he’s holding on for life as if he’s about to slip down a mountain side. The silence doesn’t change, it only deepens, their physical connection forgoing any need for words.

Steve’s heart can’t possibly get fuller. He’s about to burst.

As they reach the lush grass in front of the arts block, Steve throws a confused look at Bucky. 

He gives him a simple soft smile as he responds, “I’m taking you to an art show.”

Steve wants to say something in response, something sweet, witty or charismatic, but it dawns on him then that he doesn’t know what Bucky really knows or feels about art. He doesn’t know how Bucky feels about a lot of things, but it doesn’t feel terrifying anymore. It’s exciting actually. Like being a child onChristmas morning, he can’t wait to unpack every ounce of the person he’s dying to fall in love with.

Bucky moves in front of Steve again and opens the door to the atelier, he has his hand pressed up against Steve, carefully holding him back.

“Wait wait” he mutters as he scuffles around Steve again, his hand still touching Steve. He moves it up and around his eyes, his other hands joins in covering Steve’s vision.“Just keep walking until I say stop” Bucky breathes but all Steve can focus on his Bucky’s heartbeat pulsating through his wrist, reminding Steve that Bucky was his own beautiful human being and not just a figment of Steve’s wildest fantasies.

“Okay” Steve can hear the smile in Bucky’s breathy voice, “Volia!”

After Bucky releases him, Steve looks over the makeshift walls, cardboard painted white, with various pieces of art tacked onto them, with little descriptions printed and tacked next to them. Steve looks closer and one of them is shakily drawn picture of Natasha, a pen in her own mouth, brows furrowed. He looks at the description, ‘ _Soviet assassin plots her next hit_ ’. He recognises the sketch of something he’d deemed awful and bundled into the trash bin. There are more drawings,there’s a few continuous line drawings of coffee cups and an angry cartoon of Gregg as goblin. He looks at the next crumpled page, it’s Sam, his dark skin coloured with splattered coffee, it’s abstract and beautiful, yet still undeniably Sam, he checks the tag, ‘ _Coffee Boy_ ’.

Steve can’t help but chuckle as he runs his finger tips over the ridges of the crumpled pages. He doesn’t find it funny, but there’s so much bubbling inside of him right now, it has to escape some way. He moves his eyes to the other wall of card, and for what feels for miles upon on miles there’s Bucky. His eyes, his chin, his hand as he lightly scribbles lyrics into his own notebook. He feels his heart burn into his throat. All the drawings, even in their tiny little parts tells Steve more than he could ever do with his words. He stares at them, so completely sure that he was in fact in love with Bucky all this time, his hands betraying his heart as he carefully traced the lines of Bucky’s face in the coffee shop drenched in sunlight. . It was so blatant now. He can feel the emotions burn in his tear ducts.

A small arrangement by Steve’s favourite bench catches his eye, it’s a small stack of food and some plates.

Bucky steps forward after his own expanse of bated silence, he stands close to Steve but not touching him.

Steve’s glad he didn’t touch him. He glances over at Bucky, apprehension all over his own face, or maybe it wasn’t apprehension at all but pride. He is proud of Steve and everything he’s created, even when Steve hasn’t thought that way about himself.

Bucky gestures to a smooth piece of paper with his chin, “This one is mine,” he turns to smile at Steve, his grey eyes reflecting whites of lights in the room, looking almost ethereal, “It couldn’t all be about you,” he points to a terrible drawing of what appears to be Steve.

Steve grins in a way that he can’t help, he runs his eyes over the misshapen head and crayoned blue eyes, “You’ve really encapsulated my essence here, Buck.”

Bucky unbuttons his coat and takes a little bow, “I know, I know.”

“I especially really like how you’ve captured my one ear.”

Bucky nods smugly, “I’m glad you appreciate true art when you see it.”

Suddenly, Steve’s tone of jest is sincere again, he wants to tell him  _‘thank you for seeing something beautiful in these, in me, where I could not_ ’. He doesn’t because he thinks it goes without saying. “This is so sweet, Buck,” he mutters out instead.

Bucky nods and hands Steve a glass of wine that he’d somehow managed to precure. “Not creepy?”

Steve takes the wine and starts walking across the concrete floor towards the bench, “I mean, considering they’re mostly of you, and coffee cups, I think we’re even.”

They stand in front of the expansive window of the atelier and toast.

“To being on the same page,” Bucky announces and they clink their glasses and take a drink.

It was a funny sentiment really, as they’d always been on the same page, they’d just never discussed the book.

They both take a seat on the bench and Bucky offers Steve something from the little plate of food he’s prepared. Steve pops a lump of cheese and a cracker into his mouth as Bucky shucks his coat from his person and lets it fall into a pile on the floor, revealing the white button up stretching over his newly thick shoulders.

He groans somewhat obscenely, “So good.”

Bucky grins and places his hands in his lap, “Sam told me you’d like this.”

“Food?” Steve questions, with his mouth still half full. He removes his own coat, he hopes that's enough to tell Bucky he wants to stay in this room with him forever.

“Yeah and all of it. He said you love all the romantic big gestures mushy stuff?” he gestures to around the atelier.

“He did?”

“Was he wrong?” Bucky almost winces with his question.

“Not at all” Steve leans forward and puts his hand over Bucky’s in his lap and squeezes is lightly.

“Good.”

Steve hopes Bucky is on his way to falling in love too. He didn’t want to be too presumptuous but Bucky was looking at Steve like he was sent by the gods themselves.

“So, of all these months of friendship, you never told me you were in New York?” The word friendship feels funny on Steve’s tongue, like it was never supposed to be there. In a way they were never really just friends, they were always on the cusp of something more and luckily enough they’d managed to realise it.

Bucky lets out a small noise before responding, “Yeah, well, not the same place as you. I lived in Manhattan,” Bucky looks wistful and regret fills his face momentarily,“Not anymore though.” 

“The inner city is overrated anyway.” 

Bucky’s face changes to something warmer, like he wasn’t watching something fade away anymore rather he was watching something be born again, “It is, it’s much nicer with my Ma and Bec in the suburbs. I’d love you to meet them, they’d love you,” he sucks in a breath and then his expression goes to something resembling alarmed, “If that's not too hasty?”

Steve bites his lip carefully, “It’s not, I’d love to meet them.”

Bucky beams at him like Steve had created the stars and the planets and everything in between. 

Steve leans in to Bucky, close enough Steve can feel his breath intertwine with Bucky’s, like vines around an ancient temple. Steve lifts a careful hand up to Bucky’s cheek and rubs a careful circle with the heel of his thumb. “I’m going to kiss you.”

“I’d like that,” Bucky says, in an almost whisper.

They move together slowly, it’s tender and careful, like they were trying to right months of wrongs with just a moment. It’s more than the kisses that have come before, they’re both ready and open to this. This isn’t a kiss to save something but a kiss to start something. 

Bucky is hot under Steve’s touch and he moves to put his own hand on the nape of Steve’s neck, drawing him closer, sliding his tongue into Steve’s before breaking apart. He’s flushed and his lips sit red and plump on his face. Steve wishes desperately, for a moment, that he could take his thumb and run it along his bottom lip, until he realises he can.

They sit in silence as Bucky smiles into Steve’s gentle touch. Steve moves his hand into Bucky’s hair, clasping his head softly in his hand.

Steve begins to talk but his voice is cracked and dry, he swallows before starting again,“So I have a question, the story on the subway, when you had sex on your eighteenth birthday, was that really true?”

“100%” Bucky announces but his voice is tinged with melancholy.

Steve rubs his fingers deeper into Bucky’s brunette strands, “Why’d you do it?”

“I thought maybe I was one of those people who needed to be having sex inside of a burning building or something to enjoy it. Turns out I just didn’t like who I was having sex with.”

Steve removes his hand from Bucky’s hair and grabs a grape and pops it in his mouth as he thinks, “When did you know, that you liked boys?”

Bucky grins and rubs his right eye.“So, this is embarrassing, but my sister will tell you anyway if I don’t,” he takes a deep breath and shakes his head, “Have you seen George of the Jungle?”

“Say no more, I get  _it_.”

Bucky slaps his thighs and beams, “Right!?” like he’s looking to the universe for redemption.

_Buzz Buzz_

“1 sec” Steve says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Usually he wouldn’t do such a thing but he’s worried that Bucky is going to ask him when he knew and he’s not sure he’s ready to tell him that it was him and the night he kissed him, all exploratory and heated, the graze of his stubble moving across his face, the weight of his hands on his body. Yeah, nah he’s not ready.

Sam: _I’ve gone for an all nighter at Clint’s. Do with that information as you will._

Steve’s mouth goes dry, he knows where he wants to end the night, he wants to end it where he’s been dreaming about for months, “So have you ever, y’know?”

Bucky is always exceptional at reading Steve, “Had sex with someone I actually wanted to have sex with? No.” There’s no sadness in Bucky’s words, he utters them like an invitation. “How is it?” he purrs, looking over Steve’s face and thick torso and pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

“It’s good, it’s  _really good_ ” Steve returns.

*

They stumble to Steve’s dorm with a thunk against the wooden door. For a second Steve’s worried about the weight of the two of them against the cheap door as Bucky peppers kisses along Steve’s throat as he tries to gather his keys. Once the keys finally open the lock they almost swing into the room, Steve almost losing his footing as he goes.

Steve steadies himself against the foot of his bed, “Jeez, you’re gonna give me an asthma attack here.”

“Seriously?” Bucky’s lazy hooded eyes pricking up with interest, he cocks his mussed head.

“Don’t take that as a challenge.”

Bucky lets out a disappointed sigh and leans back into Steve. He braces into him and lets his leg sit between Steve’s, his night long erection becoming painfully apparent to Bucky and himself, he groans as Bucky slides his thigh against it. Steve runs his hands through Bucky’s hair, the hair band long since abandoned as moans thicky into Bucky’s open mouth every time Bucky shifts position. With the last move he can feel Bucky through his jeans, just as hard as Steve is. He runs his hands over the strained bulge and Bucky’s eyes almost roll back into his head like a fruit machine.

Bucky pulls Steve into another frantic kiss, it’s heated and so hot Steve doesn't know what to do with himself but his hands automatically moves to the button on Bucky’s jeans. Bucky gasps a bated ‘ _please_ ’ into Steve’s earand he pushes them down as best as he possibly can until they reveal the top of Bucky’s ass. When Steve finally gets his hand around Bucky’s cock, it’s thick and heavy in Steve's grasp as he strokes his hand over it, slicking it up with the precome leaking from the head. Bucky becomes pliant in his hands, a moaning puddle of pleasure and release and Steve breathes him in like he's the most wonderful thing in the universe.

“Fuck” Bucky grunts and blinks as if he’s seeing stars and leans his head back against the wall. “Don't stop” he breathes, eyes burning with lust and need. He moves his hands to grab at Steve’s arms, fingers digging into the flesh over Steve’s biceps and Bucky holds onto him as his body responds to everything Steve does. “Don’t stop” he whispers and bites down on his lip which Steve takes from him with his own. Bucky mewls into it, hands sliding slightly then desperately coming back up to grab onto Steve..

Steve’s got no intention to stop now. He's been wanting this for too long now and by the looks of it, so has Bucky. He deepens their kiss, tongues sliding against each other and Steve smiles, slows down before Bucky aggressively returns the kiss. His strong hands cupping Steve’s face and he kisses him hard, curses whenever he gets the chance to, especially when they unexpectedly collide with Steve’s desk. Steve feels himself get lost in the sensation. Bucky is soft but he’s rough, and he’s right  _here_. Steve breaks their kiss by moving his head down.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky breathes.

“Nothing” Steve replies lightheaded and extremely turned on with a leaking cock in his jeans. It might seem weird, but Bucky’s scent, his cologne or natural scent has always intrigued Steve, like it was meant to be that he would be head over heels for this guy. He snuggles into the crook of Bucky’s neck before he works his lips over the pale skin.

It takes him by surprise when Bucky takes a hold of his shoulders and flips them around. Steve pants as he tries to hold onto the wall, hands sliding, grasping and finding nothing. “Don’t move” Bucky says and he unbuttons Steve’s jeans, pulls them down quickly and works to toy the boxers down around Steve’s ankles. He blushes, Steve smiles and Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’ve fantasized about this” he admits and grabs a hold of Steve’s cock. “You’re huge.”

Steve looks down, Bucky’s hand slowly stroking his cock, “I guess I am.”

“Shut up” Bucky chuckles and leans in for a kiss. The chuckle ends and they’re both back to moaning messes. “What do you want?” he asks, eyes hooded and mouth hanging open. He groans out loud when Steve pulls him close and meets his hand with his, replacing Bucky’s hand with his own to wrap it around them both. “Steve” he whines.

“Buck” Steve pants. “I want you to… fuck me” he says and it’s like Steve poured gasoline onto an already raging fire.

“You do?” Bucky gasps into his ear, palms flat again the wall behind Steve’s head.

Steve laughs low and deep, his voice thick with want,“I think that’s pretty obvious.” Bucky shudders into the sound.

Steve pulls away from Bucky, missing his heat instantly. He unbuttons his shirt quickly and discards it by throwing it across the room.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Bucky stares at him slack jawed, “ _Jesus Christ_.”

It dawns on Steve that they’d never even seen each other shirtless in real life. All the times he’d imagined Bucky spread underneath him naked and panting, or Bucky pinning him to the bathroom wall, his hands sliding all over his body, had all been in his imagination.

Reality is by far much more exciting.

Steve steps out of the rest of his clothes as Bucky does the same. Then Bucky pulls him in for another kiss lowering them both onto Steve’s twin bed. Steve ends up on top of Bucky, his body straddling Bucky’s thick thighs. Bucky pulls him down into him again, this time more aggressively, possessively. Bucky’s finger tips dip into the small of Steve’s back, pulling him in as close as he can.

Steve breaks the kiss and begins kissing down Bucky’s neck, “You are so beautiful, Buck”, he says between kisses, never having meant anything more in his entire life. He can feel Bucky’s cock twitch with every kiss and his own cock leaking against the thick muscle of Bucky’s torso. Bucky moves his hands over Steve’s pert ass, cupping the cheeks as Steve ground into him as they kiss.

“I want you inside me so badly” Steve moans into Bucky’s ear as his fingers graze over Steve’s hole. Bucky presses slightly harder with his touches, causing Steve to bite down on his own lip. He doesn’t know how he’ll last when he’s so close to an orgasm off one touch.

“There’s condoms and lube in the drawer,” he breathes, hoping Bucky will move away to give him a breather.

Bucky leans over to the drawer and grabs the packet of unopened condoms and he picks at the packaging quickly, making short work of the cellophane. “You not had any use for these then?” Bucky laughs quizzically, not really understanding, especially as Steve had a boyfriend for a while. Bucky pulls out a foil packet at throws it onto the bed.

“Me and Thor never fucked,” Steve can feel his entire body go pink with blush and he doesn’t miss the surprise and relief that washes over Bucky’s face, “you’re my first, I guess.”

Bucky pulls the bottle of lube out of the drawer and inspects it quickly and pours a sizeable amount onto his fingers, “The lube’s half empty though?” his brows furrow.

“Check underneath the socks,” Steve grins catching Bucky’s eye, who then peers under the balled socks with his dry hand to reveal an array of different sized sex toys. Bucky’s eyes widen like he’s just found buried treasure and Steve can see Bucky’s cock twitch as he inspects them quickly with his eyes.

“Oh my god that is so hot,” he purrs, climbing atop Steve, placing one leg between Steve’s thighs and the other outside of them. He dives into a kiss as he lets his hand trail between Steve’s legs. He traces around Steve’s hole before pushing one finger in all to the knuckle. Steve lifts his legs further and moans with the sensation.

Bucky kisses into Steve’s hair, traces his tongue over his earlobe, nibbles on his carefully and hums when he feels Steve shiver beneath his touch. He curls his finger into that sweet spot and Steve gasps and leans into Bucky’s hand. He slides in another finger as he whispers into Steve, “Tell me,” his voice low and carries his lust in the tone, “Am I the first one who gets to fuck you?”

“Not exactly,” Steve breathes, half conscious of what he’s saying.

Bucky pulls his head back in surprise and laughs, “Damn Rogers, you weren’t lying about why they called her Peggy.”

Steve shakes his head, a blissful but strained smile appearing before it’s replaced with his panting and moaning.

“You are full of surprises,” Bucky moves down to between Steve’s legs. He pushes in the third lubed finger, takes Steve’s aching cock into his mouth. He bobs his head up and down rhythmically while using his tongue over Steve’s aching head. Steve’s moans are like pearls on a string, soft, heavy and beautiful in Bucky’s ears. When he decides to do some teasing it has Steve frantically tapping his arm all the while he’s working Steve’s ass with his fingers.

Steve moans so loudly he’s sure someone on the other side of the dorm could hear it. The thought is oddly thrilling. “Fuck me, please fuck me. I can’t last like this” Steve begs as he feels his entire body tighten up around Bucky’s fingers.

Bucky removes himself from Steve and rolls a condom onto himself before adding more lube, slowly working his own cock up and down.

The sight alone is enough to drive Steve crazy, he can hardly remember to breath or say a word that isn’t Bucky’s name.

“Okay baby are you ready?” Bucky purrs as he holds himself over Steve.

Steve can’t do anything but nod.

Then Bucky stops for a second, his expression hungry but his eyes give him away.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks. “We don’t have to-”

“I want to” Bucky stops him and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just-I don’t want this to be  _it_. You know?” he leans down and kisses Steve deeply, like he’s pouring every bit of himself into that kiss. “I want you.”

“It’s just the beginning, Buck. Don’t get all sappy on me know we can fuck again later, but I need you in me. Now.” Steve grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him down into another kiss, “I want you too.”

With a nod and a chuckle Bucky pushes the head of his cock into Steve and causes the blonde to nearly yelp from the sensation. As he adjusts and makes sure that Steve’s ready he pushes himself all the way in.

“Bucky,” Steve arches his back and feels his breath leave him for a few seconds. He’s seeing stars and feeling so, so good, “ _Jesus_.” The thickness and fullness Steve isn’t new to him, he’s felt that before, but the warmth is new and fills his entire body with electricity. This is real, this is Bucky.

Bucky begins to move into him, his hips rocking slowly at first and Steve is holding onto him, fingers curled around Bucky’s wrists. “Steve” he whispers and leans down to kiss him again. His body is glistening with sweat and by each thrust he gives he’s taking Steve’s breath away and giving it back to him through their kisses. “Fuck” he straightens back up, grabs a hold of Steve’s leg and pushes in hard with a snap of his own hips.

“I’m not gonna-ah!” Steve screws his eyes shut as he feels Bucky hit his prostate over and over, and leans his face into the pillow. He clenches around Bucky who’s grunting above him. “I’m gonna come,  _fuck_ , right there” he whimpers strained as he feels the familiar white hot feeling pool in the gut of his stomach. “Bucky!”

“Steve, I’m-” Bucky stills, his body falling onto Steve’s and he grabs a hold of Steve’s chin, his cock pulsating inside of Steve as he comes.

The kiss and their sweaty bodies together is enough to have Steve come over the edge too. He cries out Bucky’s name for what must have been-he’s not counting. It feels good, it feels like an electric shock and Steve’s undoubtingly marking this as one of the best things that has ever happened to him. He’s shaking as he feels his balls contract and then he comes untouched, come spurting between them.

“Fuck” they both breathe. Bucky runs a hand through Steve’s hair and just lies on top of him, hot and heavy still inside of him while they both come down from their orgasm.

Steve’s not sure he’ll ever get over how good it felt.

“You ok?” Bucky asks, voice giving away his tiredness. “Was it good?”

“It was,” Steve confirms with a soft kiss and a smile. He can feel the tiredness wash over him like a hot blanket. He’s not sure if it’s that or Bucky to be honest, “Was it good for you?”

“I’m still inside of you, Steve. It was fucking amazing” Bucky laughs but then he moves and slips out of Steve’s ass. He sits up and throws the condom away in the nearest bin.

Steve watches him, his broad shoulders and soft skin. Steve feels like he’s just found the missing piece to his puzzle when Bucky smiles at him all hazed by post-orgasm and sleepiness.

“What?” Bucky asks, smile showing off his whites. “You all good?”

“Come back to bed, Buck” Steve hums and drags his lover down with him under the covers of his tiny dorm room bed, their limbs tangled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for all your readership, kudos & comments, it's what keeps us going!


	16. We're Not Just Friends

Steve was eight when his dad left his mom, and him. It was the worst time really, he was just old enough to understand it but not quite old enough to comprehend what it really meant. There were plenty of other kids he knew with just a mom, just a dad or even no parents at all. He wasn’t alone in it. He had Sam, he had is mom and his grandpa but it still cut him to the core when Tommy Fitzsimmons kicked him in the gut and told him that ‘ _nobody would ever love him and that’s why his dad left_ ’. In retrospect it was pretty damning for a boy who’d just turned eleven and was still missing his front teeth. The pain in Steve’s gut faded but the words didn’t. They hung with him like a fly tangled the spider’s web of time. They hung with him, loud and angry even through Peggy, who told him she loved him as they showered together one evening.

Now as Steve wakes up to Bucky, his hair partially strangling him, his mouth parted and his arm slung around Steve’s torso, the words are still there but they’re quieter in his mind as if they’re trying not to wake the man sleeping next to him. He thinks back to the dream he had at Thor’s, he never forgot the way he felt when he looked at Bucky in the hazy dream world, the way fullness returned to him like it never was really missing. He closes his eyes and expects it to go away again, like none of this was real to begin with. Because that’s what it's been like, Steve's felt like his lungs couldn't catch air, his heart has been through so much confusion and unnecessary hurt it's ached too many times, It all coming together for him just seemed like it is plucked from his dream world.

He opens his eyes again slowly as if to prolong the inevitable, but there lies Bucky, the man he’s been dying to fall in love with breathing besides him.

Bucky stirs, “Steve?” he grumbles eyes still closed, and when he opens them he smiles lazily, “My arm is completely numb.”

Steve moves away quickly, “Oh shit!” he says but Bucky only chuckles and shakes the pins and needles in his arm away. “You’re just a really nice pillow.”

Bucky props his head up on one of his hands and just gazed at Steve. He looks so calm and content Steve can't help but wanting to get in his head. “How long have you been awake?” Bucky asks.

“Not for long. Half an hour maybe?”

Bucky hums and stares absently at the damp spot on Steve’s wall. It’s like he’s trying to make out a masterpiece in the splotchy discolored patch of plaster. His eyes are still lazy and glazed over, like they’re still trying to catch the last moments of sleep.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve asks, nudging Bucky from his waking coma.

“Terribly,” he chirps with no thought at all.

“Me too” Steve adds.

Bucky adjusts himself on his hand and yawns, “Tonight,” he chuckles and opens one eye as he lies on his back again, “You stay at my place. I have a feeling twin beds weren’t made for two big, me and yous, _us_.”

The statement is carefree and lazy, like he’d put no thought into it all, like the words had just been residing somewhere on his tongue and the right breath would carry them into fruition.  There is no hesitation in the words or a worry in his eye, he simply speaks the words like there’s no question in his mind that he believes them. Steve’s always thought it’s easy to fake passionate words but these, lazy slip of the tongues, they can’t be faked so easily. So, Bucky’s sleep addled, _tonight_ and _us_ , make the domestic dream that Steve has been so fondly wishing for a little closer to reality. That vision, of them, _us_ , gives enough kindling to Steve for him to set the fire he’s been waiting for.

“Okay deal” he sighs, smiling at the brunette now awkwardly squashed up against the wall, tangled in his duvet. It’s fitting in a way that Steve was about to take Bucky off guard as Bucky had taken him off guard so many months ago.

“Bucky?” he frowns and takes his bottom lip between his teeth and worries for a second that he’s about to burst this nice bubble that they’re in. Cut this warm and soft cocoon of _them_.

Bucky hums in response, the vibrations in his voice registering against Steve’s skin as they lay pressed against each other.

Steve takes a long slow gulp of air, carefully collecting the oxygen around him as not to alarm Bucky, “I know this may seem sudden, but to me it feels like I’ve waited far too long. I’ve wanted you to be my boyfriend for a long-” he smiles and sighs deeply while he looks at Bucky “a really long time now.” He can feel Bucky shift beside him, go stiff against the cheap mattress. Steve doesn’t want to look Bucky directly in the eyes but he’s so close to him right now he can’t avoid it, “I-okay, wow, uh” he rubs the back of his neck, “I’m gonna say this; you were the reason I figured out I wanted to be with guys. And I wanted to be with you but got lost on the way and then there was Thor but-” he blinks and shakes his head at his ramblings. The words itch at the back of his throat like they’d been birds, scratching to be set free. “I want to be with you and I guess, you to be with me? So in this long roundabouts way of saying it, will you be my boyfriend?” he smiles awkwardly, shoulders drawn up to his ears in a childlike human question mark.

Bucky doesn’t say anything.  His body relaxes for a second as he moves to lay his chest over Steve’s. He holds Steve’s face in his hands, his thumbs skirting across Steve’s sharp cheekbones. Bucky’s so beautiful like this, light and sheer energy radiating from him like a star in a far off galaxy which few will ever get to see. He hooks his hand around Steve’s neck, his fingers carefully curling into Steve’s strands of blonde, lifting him from the pillow. He leans in and presses his lips to Steve’s with tender dedication. Steve parts his own lips and deepens the kiss. It’s not like the kisses they’d shared last night, full of desperate passion, kisses designed to lead to something more. This kiss is it’s own moment, it’s own cosmic event, and it rumbles through them both like a star collapsing.

“Of course, Punk” Bucky breathes as they part, his grey eyes steadily focusing on Steve.

Steve smiles, his mind still preoccupied with the fallout of the kiss, “That’s Punk Boyfriend to you now” he mumbles, trying to be smooth, but his voice cracks at the end as it’s clear he’s made a very cringy misstep.

Bucky grins at him holding his tongue between his teeth, Steve has made this too easy for Bucky, like an enemy soldier had handed him a loaded gun. “Really?” Bucky gets out of bed and begins searching the floor of the dorm, “That’s so embarrassing,” he pulls on a pair of Steve’s pajama trousers, the fabric stretching a little around his thighs, “I’m starting to re-think this whole thing,” he grabs his phone from the little kitchen table and plugs it into the speakers on Sam’s desk, then pressing play on a piece of music that is older than the mattress Steve is lying on. Bucky shakes his head as he wanders over to the kitchenette, “Can I really be with someone who says stuff like that? Even with an ass like yours?” he opens and leans into a cupboard, pulling out a bag of coffee grounds. He places them on the counter and dramatically turns to Steve, hands on his hips, tutting and poorly stifling a grin, “I just don’t know anymore, Steve.”

“You’re the worst” Steve hums, low and steady as he gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of his boxers. He moves over to the kitchen and stops before he reaches Bucky, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s head and pulls two mugs from the open cupboard behind Bucky’s head. He places them down on the counter behind Bucky, leaving his hands braced on the surface either side of Bucky’s torso.

“Oh you know I’m the man of your dreams,” Bucky purrs and he turns around, his back now facing Steve. He opens the machine and pours the grounds into the compartment.

Before Bucky can turn the machine on, or even align the pot, Steve pushes his lips against the soft skin on Bucky’s neck, his nose tickled by the stray strand of chestnut hair, “I’d say don’t flatter yourself but you know I don’t like to lie” Steve gently nips into Bucky’s ear and then flips him around, so they’re facing one another again. Bucky beginning to blossom red all over his face and bare chest. Steve places his hands around Bucky’s waist and hauls him up, and before Bucky’s ass even collide with the plastic counter, Steve’s pulling Bucky into him, his tongue sliding into Bucky’s willing mouth. Bucky moans and he hooks his legs around Steve’s hips and the countertops groan loudly under the weight of Bucky and a metallic click can be heard too.

Suddenly, the door opens. It doesn’t swing open, it opens hesitantly like it’s trying to ask it’s crush to prom. Sam pokes his head around the door and Steve and Bucky hurriedly break their kiss apart.

He walks into the room thrusting the door closed behind him, “Fucking finally! Jesus Christ I thought I was gonna get arthritis before you two finally got it together!”

“Sam?” Steve wheezes, Bucky’s legs still hooked around his waist.

“The one and only” he bows.

“How’s it going man? How was Clint’s?” Bucky asks like he doesn't’ have a boner whilst sat on Sam’s kitchen counter and his legs entwined around a mostly naked Steve Rogers.

“Ah you know, same old same old. Arrested Development marathon again. I don’t even know why he bothers with the subs, he knows that show off by heart.” Sam begins rifling through his drawers, pulling out a black sweater and red shirt.

Bucky lets his legs swing freely besides Steve, who has now taken a hesitant step back, his whole body redder than when he spent a July afternoon hiding out on his roof. “I watched the whole first season with him once, it was like he wrote the damn thing” Bucky leans backward, grabs the coffee pot and thrusts it under the machine and flicks it on. “You want me to go?” he asks Sam to be polite but he clearly has no intention of leaving.

“Nah man, you two,” he gestures between Steve and Bucky, “do your thing, I’m just coming for a change of clothes” the drawer squeaks and Sam closes it as he bundles a pair of sweats in his hands.

“Not to sleep?” Steve crackles out, like a whoopee cushion releasing its final modicum of air. He crosses his arms over his chest and then places them on his hips and then finally settles on leaning on the counter besides Bucky.

“Nah Clint passed out around 1, had a solid 7 hours.” Sam’s stands by the door again, but he’s now grinning like a proud parent on graduation day.

“Pathetic” Bucky chortles and pulls an apple from the fruit bowl. He doesn’t take bite, he just holds it in his hand like he’s about to throw it at Sam to _‘get out’_.

Sam opens the door and takes a step out, “I’d tell you to keep it PG in the communal spaces but I don’t think there’s any point, see ya later assholes.”

Bucky’s stomach growls and Steve can’t help but laugh and Bucky takes a big bite out of the apple in his hand, the juice from it running down his chin and they’re left laughing together for a good minute before Steve leans in and smiles at his boyfriend.

“I tell you what,” Bucky gets down from the countertop, whirls them around before he grabs a pan from behind Steve’s back, “I’m gonna make pancakes and there’s gonna be nothing PG about them, they’re gonna be obscene!”

“What do you want me to do?” Steve offers and scoots a bit to the side for Bucky to have more countertop space. He watches him put down a bowl and find the stuff he needs for the pancakes. He smiles, “Buck?”

“I want you to sit down” he pecks Steve quickly on the lips and shoos him away gently. “Seriously, sit back down and relax. Breakfast will be done soon.”

“Really? I can do the eggs.”

“Sit down before I spank you with the spatula!” he threatens and shakes his head.

Steve goes and sits at the table but leans over to the desk where he pulls out a sketchbook and a pen. Sketching his boyfriend, he smiles at the word and looks up to find Bucky reading on the back of a bag of flour. “You need help?” he mutters out and quirks a brow to which Bucky sticks his tongue out and grimaces. “Alright!” Steve chuckles.

It doesn’t take long before Bucky’s humming on a song while putting together the pancakes. He’s swaying his hips, in between the flipping of the food he even finds the time to casually air guitar, it’s full of intricate fingering that Steve can’t follow and then he curses when he nearly misses to catch one of them that goes flying. Steve can’t believe that this guy, this dork and incredible man is the one his heart decided to pin as _it_. Steve can feel himself falling and he’s not sure when or if he’ll ever meet the ground when he’s with Bucky.

*

Steve is just finishing up his shift at work, the glass door jingles as it closes behind him. His hands are bundled into is pockets, he didn't think he'd need his gloves for the short walk from the cafe back to his dorm. His headphones are hooked over his ears and the bass his running through him smoothly as he wanders across the concrete courtyard.

“Steve?” Steve hears as a low mumble over his music, he pulls his headphones down to hear Tony's enthusiastic chirp, “Steve Rogers, you big blonde bald eagle!”

Steve stops walking and turns to Tony with a small but sincere smile, “Hi Tony,” he looks besides Tony to find Bruce and an elegant strawberry blonde haired woman by his side all clad in dusty lab coats, “Hi Bruce and?” he tries to make out her face but can’t remember her from anywhere. Her blonde hair is tucked behind her ear neatly and if she wasn't covered in dust and metal shavings he could have been sure that she runs the business school here. He feels like he should know who she is but there aren’t any bells ringing. He makes a apologetic smile and draws his shoulders up, “Sorry-”

“Pepper” she holds out a long fingered delicate hand for him to shake. When he takes it, she looks him over and she goes smug, “Wow, Steve Rogers.” She shakes his cold hand firmly.

For some reason people keep saying his name like he's a golden age American hero, who's come back to life after years of being buried in ice.

He can’t help but look at her, his eyes scanning her face as if it would help jog his memory.

Tony whistles and glances over at Pepper too, taking absolutely no precautions at hiding his devilish smirk, “She is something to marvel at huh? But don’t go getting any ideas.”

Steve can feel his mouth form into a neat 'o’ shape. He glances  between Pepper and Tony. She looks halfway between embarrassed by his cheesiness and absolutely smitten, “You together?”

“They are!” Bruce says loudly and clasps his hands together, “Finally got someone to share baby sitting duty with” Bruce nudges Pepper in the arm and they laugh together whilst Tony shrugs nonchalantly; it's clear he's not about to tell either of them that they're wrong. The sentiment hangs in the air like a helium balloon halfway to deflating. “However, we are going to have to leave him with you because Pep here needs to help me with some circuit boards.”

Bruce and Pepper wave them off and head towards the engineering building leaving a trail of metal shrapnel in their wake.

“Steve,” Tony hops in front of Steve, bounding like a puppy let out of it's cage for the first time, he's so excited Steve’s pretty sure he's about to start peeing everywhere, “Steve!”

Steve likes Tony, he does, but right  now in his work addled brain Tony’s antics feel like an air raid siren being played through a megaphone. Steve decides to start pressing towards home again, but Tony chases up to Steve one more time, even when Steve takes two large strides away from Tony's direction, “ _Steve_ ” he whines again.

“What Tony?” Steve hisses, his nerves shredded by a long shift and probably far more caffeine than a normal human should be able to tolerate. Tony bats his eyelashes at the blonde and he thinks Tony is about a second away from squeezing his cheek like a toddler on it's birthday, “Stop looking at me like that?”

Tony shrugs again. It seems that Tony has no idea what the point of a shrug is. A shrug is supposed to a non committal gesture that annoys Steve at the best of times. But Tony's shrugs are filled with enigmatic purpose that nobody but Tony seems to understand, “You are so fucking annoying, Tony.” Steve pulls his hand out of his pocket like he's about to play the world's tiniest violin, “I only hit people who that deserve it, and you’re _this close_ to meeting that criteria.”

Tony whistles and holds up his hands in phoney defense, “Oh, turns out the honeymoon period doesn’t extend to people out of the relationship.”

Steve feels like his eyes are about to pop out of his head and roll away, like that song about that runaway meatball that they used to have to sing in elementary school. “Bucky?” he asks, knowing the answer. It had been less than nine hours since he'd kissed Bucky on his kitchen counter and Tony already knew. Steve stops in his tracks and looks at Tony under one of the street lamps.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes wasn’t very smooth with it, he arrived home at 1pm wearing his clothes from last night stinking of pancakes and your cologne.” Tony smirks, if only to make Steve uncomfortable. Steve’s suddenly acutely aware of his feet in his shoes and how the elastic on the top of his socks feels a little too tight.

He clasps a hand over Steve’s shoulder finally showing some kind of reaction that wasn’t pure unfiltered irritation, “I’m happy for you two, you’re good for each other.”

Steve nods, if only to encourage Tony to keep being uncharacteristically not Tony. Tony’s face suddenly becomes a little more serious, his tone closer to solemn than average, “I was going to say don’t hurt him, but judging by that dopey look on your face you’re just as smitten with him as he is with you,” his eyes stern but softens as he finishes the sentiment, “you make me sick, really.”

Steve rolls his eyes and place’s his own hand over Tony’s, dwarfing it in his pale skinned paw, “I’m pretty sure you were looking at Pepper exactly like how I think I look now.”

Tony scoffs and removes his hand from Steve’s shoulder, “She doesn’t count, she’s special.”

As always, Steve can’t tell if Tony is joking or not.

“Thanks Tony,” he shakes his head and smiles. He didn’t know what to expect from Bucky’s childhood best friend, mentor and everything in between. Tony could be annoying and an asshole, but he had a good heart underneath all the bravado and bad facial hair, a heart of more than gold. As much as Steve wants to shout it from the rooftops he’s still not exactly sure about how Bucky would feel about that, so he’s not about to let Tony make that decision for them, “Don’t tell anyone else, I want to make sure that Buck is alright with everyone knowing.”

Tony gives Steve another laugh, “You’re a true bastion of honour Cap, but I don’t think he’ll mind, but my lips are sealed.” He pretends to zip his lips. “Other than with Bruce, but not in that way,” Tony rubs the back of his neck like he’s got whiplash, “Well it happened once in that way, but y’know, the other way, we’ve gotta keep talking about fresh stuff otherwise we’ll go mad in the lab. Oh and Pep she knows, but she doesn’t count. But nobody else, gotcha.” Tony ends his ramble with two finger guns.

Steve heard somewhere that Tony Stark is a smooth playboy. From looking at the Tony he knows, Steve wonders if Tony had just started those rumours himself.

*

Steve and Bucky speak that night at Bucky’s place and agree that everyone is okay to know about the two of them. They even decide to let Tony tell whoever he wants to, but Tony says that it isn’t his story to tell, which is surprisingly sound of mind for a man covered in what appears to be space rocks and gunpowder. So, they decide to let their relationship seep out gradually, like they’re refurbishing an old house and taking one thing at a time. They could’ve just gathered everyone and thrown a party and then told them but Bucky is happy to just lay low for a while. So is Steve.

Although, he does decide to tell one person, his sister. At first, like any self respecting sibling, she doesn’t believe Steve to be real.

“She doesn’t think I’m real?” Steve smirks one night when Bucky’s pushing him through his bedroom door and guiding him to his bed. This time not for sex but for something far more crucial. “Buck?” Steve teases. “What have you told her about me?”

“I might’ve described you to her a few times, alright? Like how you’re too kind and super-” he holds out his hands over Steve’s pecs “and I don’t know, but I gotta prove to her that you’re not just in my head” he runs a hand over his face and Steve can see how nervous and serious he is. “Sit” he points to the bed and Steve listens.

Steve scans Bucky’s face and can’t help but smile at how scared he looks. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine.”

“Oh,” Bucky chuckles, “It’s not that I’m worried about.” He plops down next to Steve and makes a face. “I might’ve praised you every now and then. Like,” he blushes, cheeks burning with embarrassment and then he looks at Steve and melts a little, “You’re the one, alright?” he hides his face in the palms of his hands. “I’ve told her about how blue your eyes are and how you fit me perfectly when we spoon. It’s…”

Steve pulls him into a kiss and shuts him up. “Hey, I might not have a sister or brother to brag about you to, but Sam sure hears a lot of cheesy shit comin’ from my mouth when I talk about you. Mom too.”

“Your mom?” Bucky’s eyes go curious, a little scared but there’s a hint of excitement in there too.

Steve shrugs and sighs as he looks at his boyfriend, “She knows.” He couldn’t really keep it from her when it all happened. He called her one night, freaking out a little because he hadn’t felt this much since Peggy and Bucky just feels right. “I wanted to tell her.”

“Oh” Bucky smiles. “That’s nice, that’s good,” he nods and exhales, “all right. She won’t be gentle” he chuckles and hits the call button.

Steve can’t help but chuckle as he watches Bucky’s face. He looks like he’s ready to combust when Becca appears on the screen. Steve’s very willing to facetime Becca with him to prove that he’s as real as the sky is blue.

Becca’s nose is screwed up and her New York accent is thick through the phone, “Nah, Hercules here, can’t be dating you.” She licks her lips in concentration, reminiscent to the way Bucky does, “It’d be like if the actual Hercules started dating the little goat man, y’know the one played by Danny Devito?”

“Hey!” Bucky chirps but Becca doesn’t seem to take any notice.

Steve looks at Bucky with his eyebrows raised, surprise evident on his face at this discovery, “Oh, so you were into Hercules too?”

Bucky glances at Steve and it’s clear he’s trying to contain his blushing before he glares into his phone screen, “No, I don’t know where she got that one from.”

Steve tuts in concentration as he carries on glancing over Bucky, perhaps mildly unaware of Becca still on the other end of the video call. Bucky catches onto Steve and begins to mumble through a crooked smile.“ _Although_ , Skinny righteous dude gets ripped and then starts dating a hot brunette, sounds familiar doesn’t it?” Steve’s interest in piqued by the sentiment.

Becca scoffs, “is he seeing a hot brunette as well as you then?”

“Beccaaaa!” Bucky whines and Steve revels in his misery and embarrassment.

“Hi, I’m Steve.”

“I can see that,” she smiles and Steve sees their resemblance. They got the same eyes, the same cheeky quirk to their smile, “I can’t believe he landed such a hottie. Well, nice meeting you, Steve.”

“Hear that, Buck?” Steve pulls him close and plants a smooch on his cheek. “I’m a hottie.”

Bucky pushes him off and shakes his head but then he looks at Becca and gets an idea. “You are indeed.”

Becca makes an ungodly noise from the other end of the line and screws up her face so tightly it could stay that way if she left it too long, “Okay I believe you and this Steve is real, just wait until you’ve hung up to do, whatever you’re planning on doing.”

 

They hang up and Bucky attacks Steve with a playful kiss, it has more teeth than he thinks that Bucky probably aimed for.

 

“What was that for?” Steve breathes as they break apart.

 

“For being the massive dork that you are.”

 

_*_

 

Life enters what could be called a period of normalcy pretty quickly. There’s no declarations of love, no exploding buildings or alien invasions of any kind. It’s whatever normal should be. Steve and Bucky have still decided on letting the rest of the gang find out when they find out, it’s even become a slight game to the two of them to see who can hold on the longest.

It’s become increasingly difficult as it’s clear to the both of them that they’re both dying to write each other’s name in the sky but they’re both too stubborn to do so.

“You’re gonna crack soon,” Bucky tells him one day and Steve’s almost certain he’s right but then again he too can be stubborn as a mule.

Today, the cafeteria is bustling around them, the scrape of chairs and silverware fills the room in a shrill crescendo. The light is milky as it filters through the clouds and into the room, bouncing off the bodies that fill it. Bucky and Steve are sat at one side of the long table, a black coffee in front of Steve and a half eaten sandwich on Bucky's plate. Sam, Natasha and Clint are on the other side of the table. Sam is texting furiously on his phone whilst Natasha and Clint talk to the other boys.

Bucky is facing Steve, “So we have to do a project with another medium, like inspired by art or literature,” he fidgets in his chair, “and if you have time, I thought it would be cool if we could work together?” Bucky traces circles with his thumb on Steve's knuckle under the table. He smirks into his next utterance, “You could paint something, or I could just use something you’ve already done if you don’t have time and then I could then provide the soundtrack for it.” He wets his lips slightly and pauses, “per se.”

“Something new or something old?” Steve asks, looking over the very light freckles on Bucky's face. He wonders if Bucky turns nebulous in the summer time like he does, freckles covering his shoulders, face and arms like he's been sprinkled with stardust.

“I like your old work but something new could be cool too” Bucky repeats the motion of his thumb and licks his lips.

There's a light lull in the conversation, and their little group sits in unexpected silence as the room teems around them.

“Blue Moon by Billie Holiday” Sam announces, whilst looking up from his phone, a toothy grin spread across his handsome face.

“Blue by Joni Mitchell” Natasha adds smirking at Steve before Clint taps her on her arm.

“What are we doing?” Clint asks her whilst, pressing his ear piece.

Natasha signs something quickly to him and Clint's face lights up with mischief. “Oh, okay _I’m Blue daba de dabi da_ , you know? That one.”

Natasha and Sam laugh along with Clint, and Bucky dips his head into the collar of his navy shirt to hide is own smile.

Steve lifts his hands in the air and shakes them like he's performing the world's saddest jazz hands, “Okay, very funny! Alright so my artwork has been a little, _blue_ in the past.”

Natasha quirks her chiseled brow and coyly slides her hand across the table towards Bucky and Steve, her ring scratching across the plastic, “Shouldn’t be as blue in the future though.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks her before Steve can.

She lifts her hand to her chin, Steve wants her to stroke it like a Disney villain but he knows he’ll never gets the satisfaction. “You two have been holding hands under the table for this entire conversation, either you’re fucking, which if you are, congratulations,” she pauses  “or Steve keeps wandering off and getting into mischief and you’ve got keep him close at all times, like an overgrown toddler.”

Bucky leans into Steve slightly and whispers to him like Natasha wouldn't be able to hear them, “How did she know?”

She points at Steve with a manicured finger and then at Bucky, “ _You_ kept going red everytime _he_ moved his shoulder so I checked under the table and saw.”

“Does everyone know?” Bucky whines. Bucky is beginning to glow red, Steve guesses it's because this means that neither of them have won their little game.

“Yeah pretty much,” Clint announces whilst stuffing the final pizza slice in front of him into his mouth.

Steve looks around the small group and his eyes fall on Sam, “Have you been telling people?” it's not an accusation, he's just intrigued now.

Sam puts his phone on the table with a click, there's a flash card app open on there, “No, but you’re not very subtle with it-”

“Subtle with what?” Thor interrupts with a boom whilst coming up behind Steve and Bucky. He stands behind them, clad in what appears to be a leather jacket over a denim one with a faded ABBA t-shirt beneath that, knowing Thor it isn’t ironic at all.

The little group looks around at one another with wide eyes covering each end of the colour spectrum.

Natasha opens her mouth, “Hey big guy,” is the only thing that comes out, in a slow drawl.

Thor looks them all quizzically and tucks a spare strand of blonde hair behind his ear. His eyes flit from left to right as he tries to decipher the situation.

Bucky glances at Steve and parts his mouth as if to speak.

“Me and Bucky,” Steve starts before Bucky gets the chance, then he holds his breath, “We’re dating.”

Thor doesn't speak. But suddenly, there’s a shrill scraping of chairs as Thor pulls Steve and Bucky, including both of their chairs into a tight hug as he squats between them. There's no limit to this Nordic god's strength apparently.

Thor glances between them both, tenderness covering every inch of his face, “Steven, James, my heart is so full of love for you both!”

“Thanks Thor” Bucky squeaks, still embraced tightly in Thor's left arm.

“You are so welcome, I am so very happy for you,” Thor cooes, squeezing them both in tightly again. He makes a satisfied noise as he releases the two boyfriends. He stretches as if he'd just completed the best workout of his life, “My books are waiting for me, but I am so very glad I could be a part of this moment.”

He begins to walk away but doesn't get far. He turns around as if he just remembered something, “Wait, Sam I have this for you” he goes to give Sam a text book and chats with him and the other side of the table is preoccupied for a moment by Thor’s explanation of synaptic chemistry.

Steve can’t help but get a flashback of his dream with Bucky and Thor and he subtly leans over to Bucky, whispering in his ear, “Do you want to know something really funny?”

“Of course” Bucky drawls.

“I had a dream once where we had a threeway.”

Bucky leans away from him and looks at him, leans in for more details.

“Me, you and Thor” Steve chuckles lightly, amused at the memory still visiting him some nights. He looks over at Thor and when their gaze locks he waves at him, a silent ‘thank you’ because Steve is forever grateful for his time spent with Thor, even though it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was the bridge to the thing he was looking for. Thor is just too good for this world and Steve sure he’s not even from this planet. Thor smiles back at him.

“Oh, I have that dream _at least_ once a day” Bucky laughs and nudges Steve shoulder.

“Fuck you, Jerk” he takes a sip of his coffee and feels so happy in this moment surrounded by his friends that doesn’t make a big deal out of this. For Thor being accepting and sweet, for Bucky being an idiot and life seeming a little bit easier than it has been.

They kiss quickly and when they break apart Sam and Thor fist bump each other and they’re all looking at them sweetly, even Natasha.

“Get lost, all of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos-ing and commenting, we love you!


	17. Warm Foothills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this has taken so long, december has been fucking buck wild my guys. hope you enjoy this long over due chapter.

Steve can’t recall life ever being like this, maybe once when he got to look after a golden retriever at the age of eight, but that was just for one day. Steve was lying under the old oak tree in his garden with the dog sleeping next to him in the grass, content and free, and he still recalls it to be one of the best days of his life. The days moved on but the oak tree always reminded him of that day.

Steve’s Grandpa once told him about the Tree That Owns Itself and he told him that like that tree, their oak and anyone who sat beneath it didn’t really belong to anyone else either. As he dreams of Bucky in the shadow of the tree, for once in his life he thinks he understands what his Grandpa meant. He finally has control of himself and everything in an eight-foot radius.

Spring has been nice to them. The sun hangs in the sky, the rain clouds always parting just enough to let the rays peak through. How the sun shines through Bucky’s window and down on them, lead in bed, tangled in Bucky’s white sheets when it’s nearing 11 in the morning. How Bucky’s skin turns golden when he’s been out in it for a while and how they both seem more content and happy; like two old cats snuggled together like they’d spent a lifetime at each other’s side.

He sighs as he presses closer to Bucky and inhales Bucky’s smell. Giving Steve’s senses a feeling of home and it tingles knowing he can do this again tomorrow. He smiles and lets out a hum when Bucky stirs.

  
Bucky’s chuckles send nice shivers through Steve, “Are you sniffing me?” he asks amused.

“Maybe I am” Steve croaks and the peals of laughter escape him. “You smell good.”

Bucky turns around in Steve’s arms, his blue facing Steve’s, “That’s cause we fucked in the shower last night.”

“We both smell good.”

“We do” Bucky smiles as he kisses Steve softly. “What are we gonna do today?”

“Lie here” Steve answers immediately and sighs knowing that they most likely will have to get up soon because they both have assignments to do.

Bucky turns around facing Steve with a pleased smile on his face. “We could do that but,” Bucky plants a kiss, sleepy and full of affection on Steve's lips, “we’ve gotta finish up that project.”  


*

They’ve been on multiple dates since they’ve told everyone. Steve snorts as he thinks back on it, no, everyone told _them_.

Bucky’s favorite dating spot is either at a very tiny café where they have some weird pastries none of them know the name of, aside from Bucky and his refined pallet, or it’s at the cinema where he always picks the back seat so he can fulfill his backseat makeout-fantasies with Steve. Steve put a ban on the sessions during Oscar season. Bucky was happy to oblige, he wasn’t really into making out during a film about racism in the 1970s anyway.

Steve’s favorite dating spot is the atelier where Bucky will bring takeout and strum his guitar whilst he thinks Steve isn’t paying attention over his painting. Steve’s been working and painting from a photo of his mother and grandpa. It’s in multiple pieces, one is of her hands, her old wedding ring and her mother’s watch. The other piece is of her eyes and nose, Steve can see his resemblance to his mother and he can see where it all stems from. There are little pieces of Steve all over the canvas without him being featured at all.

“I like this,” Bucky told him one day when they were in the atelier together and he’d just put his guitar down to have a walk around to see what Steve’s been painting. He places his hand over the back of Steve’s neck and Steve looks up, his face riddled with hesitation as he looks at Bucky. Anyone would say it was a strange look on Steve and Steve wasn’t even sure why he was wearing that look in the first place.

“It’s your mom, right?” Bucky asks his voice tinged with softness and fondness that is equal to the one burning hot in Steve’s chest. Bucky’s trying to clear up whatever Steve was thinking.

Steve nods sharply. He looks at the painting again and then back to Bucky. “I don’t know why I’m hesitating-” he stutters and feels overwhelmed, his chest tight and breath short. Bucky’s hand suddenly more of a strangle on his neck than comfort. Steve tries to breathe normally and Bucky moves his hand to grab a hold of Steve’s hand. “Wha-”

“Let’s go to town. I need a break” Bucky says, leans down and pecks Steve on the lips. “You look like you need one too.”

As he washes off the paint on his hands and grabs a hold of his bag, Bucky’s watching him from the metal door. His eyes glinting back at Steve like they’re holding all the answers Steve’s dying to hear. He’d gladly sit down and listen right now.

They head outside and it smells like rain but the ground is dry, the sky is carrying a promise of a downpour and Steve’s lung heave for the clear air that has yet to come. He throws a look over at his boyfriend, Bucky, who’s looking so at ease and in place that Steve can’t help but feel annoyed at how alien he feels in this moment.

Bucky comes to a halt and tilts his head to look at Steve. His brown hair loose and usually Steve wants to run his hands through them, he wants to play with it, but now he feels nothing.

Steve kicks at a pebble on the ground, shoulders slumped and heavy.

“What’s bugging you?” Bucky asks softly as he walks up to Steve and sneaks his arm to lock it with Steve’s.

The butterflies return and Steve takes a big gulp of air with relief and closes his eyes. “Nothing” he lies and looks away, a tiny smile of how hopeless and _strange_ he feels plays on his lips. Because nothing but something is bothering him and finding the right words are impossible at this moment. He shrugs and bites his bottom lip, guilt burning inside of him. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want coffee?” Bucky offers instead of pushing for an answer. His arm warm, solid against Steve’s and smiles softly at him before planting a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “What can help you relax?” his hand comes down to intertwine with Steve’s.

Again Steve shrugs as he can’t seem to catch the words firing around his head, “I don’t know, Buck.”

“You’re starting to worry me here, Rogers” he chuckles lightly but Steve hears the worry, the cautiousness. “Alright, we’re going downtown and you’re gonna tell me about your mom.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been painting her. And you’re sad.”

Steve thinks about her. Her laugh, her sparkling blue eyes whenever she’s happy and how sad they get when she’s upset. He recalls her perfume, the one that smells like daffodils and lavender with a hint of rose. Steve smiles when he thinks back to the summer of serenity and how she too loved the dog he was babysitting. She had come out to them, laid down beside Steve and they had planned Steve’s birthday. She would personally make the ice cream for his little party that would consist of Sam and his brother and Steve with the rest of Steve’s family. Her chocolate mint ice cream is to die for.“I miss her” he croaks out.

“But that’s not why I’m... whatever I’m feeling,” Steve waves himself down like the movement would help wave away the enigmatic feeling bursting through his chest.

“I think you need food, whatever you’re feeling will be helped by food”

“You’re right.”

Bucky grins smugly, “I am, aren’t I?”

“Asshole.”

“Kiss me.”

Steve kisses him, hard and a bit too rough but Bucky breathes into it and pulls Steve closer. The kiss only last a second, it’s quick, needy and so full of everything they feel towards each other. The kiss feels like home, but a new home, but their own home, with warm empty walls and cardboard boxes and empty takeout containers on the kitchen floor.

*

“We should get matching t-shirts” Bucky blurts out as they pass a store just outside the university campus.

“Wha-” Steve gets dragged into it and watches as Bucky walks over to the table with a dark red shade. Bucky looks at them, holds one up to measure it across his chest and then he holds it up from a distance, his blue eyes squinting as he tries to check if the color works on Steve. Bucky puts it down and holds up a grey shirt instead but grimaces and picks up the red one again.

“This one looks good on you” he winks and puts it in Steve’s hands. “And it looks good on me.”

“Why do you want matching shirts?”

Bucky turns around and raises a questioning brow at Steve, “I don’t know, it’d be funny. And we’d look hot, people would know we’re dating.”

“Everyone already knows we’re dating, Buck” Steve shakes his head but smiles as he lets out a breath of surrender. Steve blushes as he catches the girl behind the counter and her eyes go wide. She too blushes.

“See! Now she knows we’re dating” Bucky winks flirtatiously and wiggles his eyebrows before he pecks Steve’s lips.

“Yeah cause you just told her!”

Bucky walks up to the counter, hands flat on the glass top as he looks at her dead serious while asking, “Do you have any ‘I’m with stupid’ t-shirts?”

The girl looks at Steve then back at Bucky and then back at Steve like he’s holding some secret answer but she stutters out, “Fraid not” with a tiny shrug and then she makes a face like it’ll stop Bucky from hunting down matching t-shirts and ease Steve’s pain.

“Thanks” Bucky sighs and is oblivious to it all.

“Why are you like this?” Steve tilts his head fondly to look at his determined boyfriend as they exit the shop. Bucky obviously bothered that he didn’t find what he wanted.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Stop it you know you lo-”

“Oumph!” Steve grunts as he bumps into someone and Bucky pauses. “I’m sorry!” he blurts out, holding out his hands in an apology on instinct. He freezes when he sees who it is.

It would have been rather confusing to anyone who didn’t know the story, but when Steve catches a glance at the homophobic asshole that was causing a fuss in the coffee shop a few months ago, he wants to shout at him. Steve wants to do a lot to this guy but shouting seems like the only reasonable thing to do.

“Steve-”

“Don’t” he snaps without meaning to and stares at the guy smugly staring back at Steve.

“So,” he starts and Steve knows that the next thing coming out of this guys mouth is offensive, he hopes it is, he’s itching to punch this guy into the next state, “You are a fag” he drags and narrows his eyes while pointing at Steve, “I wasn’t wrong?"

“Hey” Bucky warns and steps into place next to Steve, “What the hell is your problem, man?”

Any reasonable person would’ve been intimidated by the two of them, but this moron just stands there, his grin mocking them both, his dark eyes flit between the two men. “You two fucking?” he asks, and Steve narrows his eyes at him while Bucky takes a deep breath rooting himself.

“What’s up? You and your girlfriend shy?” the words seep from his mouth like mustard gas from a canister.

Steve surprises them both when he grabs the guy by the shirt, pushes him into the nearest ally and holds him up against the wall. Steve can feel the dampness of the wall radiating off the stone slabs, and the smell of garbage hanging in the air.

“Steve, hey-” Bucky starts, his hand on Steve’s bicep as if that’s gonna calm him down.

The guy leans forward like he’s about to whisper something to Steve. Stupidly he leans in as if to listen. Suddenly a glob of spit meets Steve’s cheek. He pulls the guy from the wall, testing the tensile strength of the guy’s shirt. He tries to move, but he just hangs there under Steve’s grip.

“Can’t throw me out now faggot, this is public-”

Steve holds him at arm’s length and finally swings with a powerful right hook, knocking the guy to the ground, “I can do that though.”

He watches in amazement when the guy gets back up on his feet, a little blood running from his nose but the sick smile still plastered to his face.

“All you got, you fucking homos!?” he lays on them and tries to swing at Steve but Bucky punches him before he gets to lay a hand on Steve, he tumbles back into a pile of ripe trash bags. They jump with the impact, sending a flurry potato peel into the ally.

“You didn’t have to do that” Steve whispers to Bucky, whilst he suddenly becomes very aware of the throbbing in his own hand.

“Neither did you” Bucky retorts, surprisingly composed, steadfast in his dedication to kicking this guy’s ass, “But here we are” he adds with the tiniest of smiles before he glares back at the guy.

“You’re gonna fucking regret this!” the guys gurgles as he holds his nose from where he sits among the trash bags. Bucky kneels down quickly to pick up the brown wallet on the floor, he opens it and peaks at the ID card within it. He snaps a picture with his phone and then points the camera towards the trash amongst its own kind.

The guy stands up uneasily and then starts towards the two of them, “I’m gonna report you fags to the police, get you kicked out of university, locked up where you belong!”

He throws a punch to Steve, who simply steps back to avoid it, “Oh really, says the guy who’s just been spouting hate speech?” Steve shakes his head as he tries to take another swing towards him, “and also, where are you even from? The past? Alabama in 1938?” Steve adds, just to piss him off.

He pauses and steadies himself, finally understanding that physically attacking them wasn’t going to get him anywhere, “None of your business. You’re a disgrace to America, you faggots are going to hell!”

Bucky clicks his tongue and holds the phone a little higher, framing the chaos like he was filming his directorial debut, “Okay Thomas Beaverton, can you say that again? But this time with more pizazz, like you’re _really_ trying to piss us off.”

Steve glances over to Bucky, he feels nervous at first, nervous that this guy is actually crazy and Bucky’s little film project was enough to tip him over the edge. But if Steve has learned one thing about Bucky, it’s that he’s never doing anything just for the sake of it.

“What?” There’s sudden confusion on Thomas’ face, then he lunges towards Bucky, only stopped by Steve’s large hand on his shoulder,  “Give me that fucking phone!”

Steve looks at screen and Bucky is furiously uploading the video to Instagram. He’s got over twenty thousand followers, no thanks to his guitar playing and the photos of Steve he uploads when he’s not looking.

Steve grins at Bucky, his entire body is pumping with adrenaline, it’s ringing through his ears and searing through his veins. When Bucky grins back it’s clear he’s feeling the same rush from this too. Steve’s never felt the same rush when he’s done this before. Maybe it’s because the bully would always kick his ass back, or it’s because he always had to do it alone, and now he wasn’t. He almost forgets he’s still holding the asshole in place as he juts against his locked arm, “ _Baby_ , make sure you tag the university students union and LGBT+ society in that video.”

Bucky bites down on his lip as he finishes his mission, “Already done that _honey_ , and messaged it to the Dean too.” He slides his phone into his pocket, "Oh Tommy boy, you are so expelled."

“Ah I love you” Steve announces in response. The words fall from him so casually and readily, it’s like they’d always been there. It turns out he was right, that casual slips of the tongue can’t be faked. He’s never said that to Bucky before, he’s imagined it, again and again, examining the tone of his voice and the placement of his hands and the direction in which the sun shone. He’s always imagined how he’d say it a thousand different ways and this situation was never at the top of the list.

Steve glances over at Bucky, who seems steadily unreadable in the split second Steve turned his head and Thomas began surging towards Bucky.

Bucky, completely unphased just kicks Thomas in the testicles, completely debilitating him.

Bucky always told Steve that sometimes you’ve got to play a little dirty. He always thought it was just a sex thing, although watching a human shit stain getting his just dessert was about as close to an orgasm he could get without dragging Bucky to the nearest shadowy corner.

The guy looks up at Bucky and groans, rocking his body against his tender nether regions. Bucky flicks the wallet towards the owner, folds his arms and grins, “It doesn’t matter anyway, the videos already online and I have a lot of angry gay friends and my dad’s a lawyer.” Bucky unfolds his arms and begins to walk away, taking steps backward and then pivoting to face away from him. His heavy boots click the damp sidewalk as he salutes with two fingers, “See you in hell, asshole.”

Steve takes two large steps to catch up and slings his arm around Bucky’s broad shoulders as they walk out of the alley.

“But you and your dad hate each other?” Steve asks, turning his head towards Bucky.

Bucky laughs and the creases around his eyes that have etched themselves into Steve’s memory made an appearance, “He doesn’t need to know that, _dipshit._ ”

Steve flexes the bruised hand over Bucky’s shoulder, the joints creak with the movement. He looks down to check Bucky’s hand but it’s completely unscratched like it’s made of the strongest metal on earth. The pain in Steve’s hand begins to sear, against the cold drops of rain that are falling from the sky.

“Howlie's Diner is up the road, the food there isn’t too bad” Bucky states, turning towards Steve. They hadn’t eaten all day and after that fight, they sure need something to soothe the adrenaline.

Steve snorts, carefully flexing his fingers with a hiss, “Is that your way of asking me on a dinner date?”

“That and I’m getting you some ice for that hand.”

When they’ve found a booth and ordered food, Bucky’s off to talk to someone behind the counter and he returns with a bag of ice in his hands and a clean dish towel over his arm.

“Buck” Steve groans.

“Gimmie,” he says simply, gesturing to Steve’s hand.

“I can do this myself, just get me some tape” he announces, grinning and hoping to remind Bucky of that night where they’d both clearly fell for each other. They’d fallen so deeply and quickly they were both in the dark about what to do, what it even meant. Steve once likened it to them both falling down a well, a particularly inviting and comforting well.

“Very funny” Bucky sits down next to him, pushes him to the side and carefully grabs a hold of Steve’s hand whilst carefully placing the ice on it. He grins smugly as Steve hisses at the coldness of it. “I hope it’s not broken,” he frowns, “you hit that guy pretty hard.”

“Eh,” Steve shrugs and winces as Bucky moves the ice around a bit, “He deserved it.” Steve looks wistfully off into the distance and closes his eyes as Bucky’s fingers trace softly over his bruised, cold hand. He doesn’t like violence, he doesn’t like having to stand up for himself like what he did back there but he knew it happen eventually. He’d done it for Buck, he’d do it for anyone if they were exposed to any sort of mistreatment. He opens his eyes and glances quickly at Buck who looks lost on what to say, he leans in and Steve takes a deep breath and feels so at _home_ when he’s close to Bucky. He thinks back to what he said earlier and feels his heart start to race and he’s about to bring it up when the food arrives.

Bucky’s moved to sit across from Steve who’s trying to eat with the wrong hand. He looks contemplative, curious. “The painting, before?  You looked… weird?” he puts down his fork, plays with the fries and grabs them with his fingers instead.

Steve looks at his burger and is regretting getting something he essentially needs two hands to eat. He chuckles as he recalls his weird mood. “You noticed?”

“Well yeah, that was the point of this whole trip too,” Bucky leans forward to look out of the window, “three blocks from campus.”

“Yeah, we didn’t get very far huh?” Steve picks at the sesame seeds on his burger bun.

Bucky takes a bite of his fry and dips it in the ketchup, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Steve sniffles and sighs. He picks up the burger and stares at it, only to put it down again.. He looks outside and watches as the sky is set on fire by the sun setting in the horizon. He can hear the distant rumble of thunder and the rain coming towards them in the distance. “It was this like overwhelming crush of emotion,” he starts, “I don’t even know which emotion.”

Bucky looks outside too but he’s quick to look back at Steve.

“I was looking at my entire history on that canvas, my entire life and it hit me that I’m making my own history right now? I know it sounds cheesy” he laughs at how he’s sounding but Bucky’s serious face doesn’t falter, he’s genuinely interested in Steve’s emotional nonsense. “I kinda felt small, you know when you look at the stars, that like the stars don’t care about you?”

Bucky makes a face and goes back to take a bite out of his food, “I’m not sure I follow.”

“In a good way! Like the universe doesn’t care about what I do but I’m finally living my life for me, it’s gotten so much bigger with you, my life is for me y’know?”

“I do,” Bucky says this time. Steve can see that something changes by the way his eyes softens and the wrinkles appear.

“It’s all just clicked into place, sitting here.”

“Steve,” Bucky says suddenly but he bites back whatever that was about to fall from his tongue. He just looks at him, fondness and clarity in the look on his face. “Yeah, I get it,” he says as he goes back to finish off his food.

Steve can feel the energy between them, it's hot but not in a sexual way, no, it feels more connecting and rooting and Steve just wants to sit here forever with the rain drizzling down from the sky and look at Bucky bathing in the fiery light from the sun as the thunder deafens the pounding of his heart in his ears.

*

By the time they get back to Bucky’s place they’re soaked from running in the rain. Steve is almost sad that Bucky moved out of Tony’s place, he was starting to miss the little man, Jarvis, who’d live in the walls and would have coffee brewed for them by the time they got in.  They enter the apartment laughing in between Steve’s complaints about Bucky not being careful with his hand and Bucky telling him to keep his hands still as they get each other off quickly in Bucky’s tiny hallway, pressed against his front door. Luckily they’d managed to make it to the inside of the door this time.

Then they’re sitting in Bucky’s bed, tangled in his sheets when Bucky picks up Steve’s hand and kisses it while looking at him with the eyes as soft as two down pillows and a smile made from the clouds themselves.

“What?” he croaks and Bucky shrugs but he pokes Steve gently on his stomach. “I’m ticklish, Buck. Don’t start it” he says and Bucky rolls his eyes and leans into Steve’s body.

“Do you got these butterflies in here?” he asks, his voice low and tired. He points at Steve’s belly. “I’ve heard that if they hurt but also make you happy it means you’re in love.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve replies as his fingers cards through Bucky’s hair. “They’ve been there for a while now and with you they’re constant.”

Bucky sits up next to him, shoulder to shoulder and hand in hand. “What you said earlier,” he starts and flexes their fingers together, “did you mean it?”

“That he’s an asshole?” Steve jokes even though he knows what Bucky means.

“No-I-you’re an idiot” he punches Steve in the shoulder. “That you love me.”

“Oh, that!” Steve exasperates and pretends to be taken aback, he squeezes Bucky’s hand which is now clammy and cold. The nervousness is hard to miss and Steve turns his head so it rests on the headboard and he smiles at his lover, “Yeah, Buck. I meant it, I love you. I have done for a long time”

Bucky goes from nervous and slightly rigid back to soft and calm, “I li-love you too” he breathes with a relieved chuckle.

“Ooooh! That sounded forced, Barnes. You sure you love me?”

“Shut up! I love you alright.” He sighs like he’s been holding it in his entire life. “Although, I don’t like you right now.”

“Yeah?” Steve teases and feels how the butterflies in his stomach flutter away. He wonders if Bucky’s feeling them too.

Bucky dives in for a hard kiss and he mutters in it, “Fucking asshole.”

“Jerk” Steve pecks his lips and winks.

Bucky grabs a hold of Steve’s jaw and kisses him more softly this time, “Punk.” He’s chuckling, sniffling and most definitely having a moment but Steve’s not going to stop kissing him, he’s never going to stop kissing him.

“You’re being awfully nice to someone you don’t like?” Steve kisses into Bucky’s neck.

Bucky laughs, the vibrations rumbling through Steve’s body, “You’re growing on me, what can I say?” He breathes a staccato breath into the air as Steve kisses the sweet spot behind his ear. He returns the favour by venturing one hand under the covers but quickly he’s startled by the buzzing sound of Steve’s phone and stops.

They both grunt.

“Your phone is ringing,” he says and Steve hits his hand in the nightstand, curses, and Bucky leans back chuckling as Steve manages to find his phone and hit answer.

“Shit!” he curses again and then, “Peggy! Hi!” Bucky’s watching him his smile gone, over to lip biting and what he hopes isn’t anxiousness. “I’m free tomorrow yeah” Steve smiles as he hears Peggy’s British accent ring in his ears. “I’ve actually got something to tell you. And yeah my Skype details are the same. Just message me.”

Bucky swallows as Steve hangs up.

“Buck, how do you feel about meeting my ex?” he asks and Bucky’s back to his old self again with the shit eating grin and mischief in his eyes. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Meeting the woman that tamed Steve Rogers? I think it should be illegal to turn that down, don’t you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thankyou so much for your continued readership and support, it means the world. stay tuned for the final chapter next time!


	18. That's All

The thought of Peggy and Bucky meeting sends Steve into a spiral, an upwards spiral, where the bottom is the earth and the top is the realm above the stars. In his mind, the two of them are the stars and the moon and he’s the lucky one that got to experience them both in his life on earth.

He’d talked to Bucky about the way he felt and still feels about Peggy. They were in love and it’s taken a lot for him not to be anymore. She helped him grow, she saw something in him when he was smaller than her with bones like glass and lungs like cheese graters and that’s not something Steve takes lightly. He was worried at first, that Bucky wouldn’t understand that he still loves her but that he’s not in love with her. He was worried that he’d be angry, but when Bucky simply said with that knowing chuckle and that loving glint in his eye that, ‘ _Your heart is far too big just for me_.’ Steve didn’t know what to do with himself.

Steve doesn't know what's going to happen or if anything will happen at all but he knows that he wants Peggy and Bucky to be in each other’s lives too if they want that. He believes they’d get on well even if it is just over messaging or phone calls.

To pass the time until the call, they sit in Steve's dorm, digging themselves a YouTube hole. Sam and Bucky are squeezed on either side of Steve in Steve’s bed, their backs pressed up against the faintly textured and heavy stained paint of the wall. An old MacBook is balancing carefully on Steve’s blanketed knees. Sam tries to rearrange the blankets to cover his feet but sends an empty pizza box, a bag of cookies and Bucky’s sanity sliding off the bed in the process. They hit the ground with an anticipated thunk.

Bucky holds his breath and quietly counts to three. Sam and Bucky do get along, but they have far too much fun pretending they don’t. He releases the breath and turns to Steve who’s frozen in a cringe and Sam’s glaring at him.

“I’m sorry?” Bucky tries.

Steve smiles, “I know.”

“Stop being all flirty,” Sam grunts as he carefully leans to grab the bag of cookies.

“You’re just jealous because you miss Sharon.”

“And?-” he slips as he grabs the bag and has to steady himself on Steve’s bicep. “S-she’s in San Francisco! It’s not like I can just pop in and visit her at her internship” he confesses, stuffing a cookie into his mouth to finish the sentence with as much dignity as he started it with.

“You admit it?” Bucky gapes and Steve too is a bit taken aback by his best friend’s honesty.

He nods with a mouthful, “- and it sucks!” Sam pauses the series, “What if Bucky here started touring with a band or as an artist? You’d mope too.”

It's true and Steve freezes for the briefest second just to think about Bucky being gone for months at a time. He decides quickly that he doesn't like it. He slips his hand into Bucky’s and squeezes as if to tell him ‘ _please don't ever go_ ’ and Bucky is smiling next to him. That glint in his eye telling Steve that he's right there and that he won't leave his side, at least until he gets a supporting gig for someone really cool. Steve and Bucky still haven’t quite decided on who constitutes cool, but they did decide that if Steve suggests someone it means they’re already down 15 cool points.

Sam rolls his eyes and glares at the two of them, like the sun glinting off a disco ball hung around a car’s rearview mirror, into the eyes of a driver who should have really expected something like this to happen, “I said stop.”

“We ain't doing anything!” Bucky announces, flipping his arms in the air showing Sam his hands, causing Steve to cling to the laptop because apparently today people can’t seem to sit still.

“You're basically eye-fucking him,” Sam points out with a gesture between their faces.

Steve shrugs because Sam’s right. No point denying it when all Steve wants to do is kiss Bucky. All the time. Everywhere. Does he have a problem? Maybe.

“Go call Sharon instead of turning this room into mopetown.”

“She's busy, got a meeting at 11.”

Bucky shyly counts on his fingers to work out the time difference, in the same way, that he still pretends to hold a pen to work out his left and right, “It’s only 10:30 there now and she posted on Twitter that she wants her boyfriend to be there with her. I'm sure she'll pick up.”

“How do you-”

“I follow everyone” he snips.

They’re interrupted by a hasty knock on the door.

“Y’all fucking?” Natasha yells through the thin door.

Steve can’t help but be glad of the extra distraction as all he seemed to be able to do when they were watching TV was stare at the clock on the corner of the screen, counting down to 4 pm.

“Yes,” Sam, Steve, and Bucky announce at the same time.

She opens the door anyway onto the pizza crumb covered room and the three of them in various states of cozy dress. They peer up at her wide-eyed from their squashed position on the bed.

“Y’know what, I thought it would be sexier than this,” she says, arms crossed over her chest and can’t help but laugh at them all looking like toddlers in their pajamas. “It looks like a children’s sleepover in here.”

Suddenly a large cloud of blonde appears behind Natasha’s head, Thor goes to put his hand on her shoulder before she takes a long step forward into the dingy dorm room.

“We are sexy what are you talking about?” Bucky mumbles into blankets that he’s now slid himself under, legs now exposed and socked feet touching the ground.

“Sam’s got a pizza stain on his shirt” Thor spots from the doorway.

Sam scuffles out of the bed, clearly done with the day, “Fuck!”

He stands up hastily and strips his stained shirt and pulls on another, somewhat cleaner shirt. Smoothing down the creases and adjusting his shorts, he picks up his black duffle bag and throws it over his shoulder. He turns to the room with the exhausted triumph of a man who’d just escaped quicksand, “Right, I’m going to the gym. I can’t sit here any longer, I’m gonna either melt into the bed or end up actually in bed with these two.”

Bucky scoffs from his position, “Bold of you to assume we’d have you.”

“Have you seen me?” he gestures to himself and then to Bucky, who’d created such a concertina with his chins Sam didn’t have the time to count them. “Right, see you later assholes. I hope Peggy likes you, Buck.”

Sam turns to leave but pats his pocket where his phone should be and begins shuffling around the piles of papers on his desk. Thor, now acutely aware of the still too small sized gap in the bed makes a beeline to fill it. As he moves towards the bed it becomes quickly apparent that’s not going to fill the space that Sam left but rather create his own space in the non existent void between Steve and Bucky. Luckily, Steve has quick reflexes and he grabs the laptop before it’s crushed, along with Bucky under the weight of a man whose muscles have been replaced with solid gold.  

Bucky wheezes from under Thor’s body and finally catches his breath as Thor finally settles in between them, “Wait that sounds ominous, Sam, what do you mean?”

Natasha, who had been watching this whole debacle decides to delicately lay on top of the three men like a lounge singer draped in red velvet and diamonds atop a grand piano in a jazz age bar.  

Steve glances over at Bucky who is now squashed into his desk and then assess that he himself is about the fall off the mattress, “You know there’s another bed over there and two whole chairs-”

“Steve what does he mean?” Bucky cries, still not letting Sam’s comment go.

Sam plunges his newly found phone into his pocket and taps against the door frame, “It’s not ominous, you’re just hard to like is all, and she doesn’t take anyone’s shit.”

Bucky flips him off with a scowl and Sam returns it eagerly as he walks out the door with his gym bag chuckling to himself.

Natasha finally settles down into the three of them, her curves melting across their legs and holds out her manicured but weathered fingers.

“Look what finals have done to me” she pouts.

Bucky grabs it carefully and takes a look, running his fingers over the slight calluses between her middle finger and forefinger.  He holds her hand slightly more firmly as he inspects it closely, “Steve’s look like this all the time, even down to the red polish.”

Steve tuts and rolls his eyes. His hands have always been callused, from painting, work and lifting. Bucky’s never complained about the roughness of them before, in fact, he definitely likes them. He once told him that they make him seem like the kind of guy who’d be able to rip a log in half with his bare hands.

“Look what finals are doing to me” Thor mumbles, interrupting Steve’s chain of thought.

“What?” they all ask and inspect in unison.

Thor sheepishly gestures to his person, like it’s something to be ashamed of, “Look at me, I’m tiny, I’ve barely been to the gym in months!”

Bucky screws up his face like he’s just been told that there are eight days in the week, “Yeah Thor, I almost missed you when you walked into the room.”

Steve’s left butt cheek suddenly slides off the bed and he has to steady himself with his own foot, “Actually I think you’re bigger. You definitely feel bigger right now,” he groans as he pushes further into Thor to comfortably get back onto the bed.

Natasha turns to face the mottled ceiling, “I will trade every bone in my body not to do another exam piece.”

Thor nods enthusiastically in agreement.

Bucky turns to him the best he can from his little, squashed corner, “You’ve only got one year left.”

“Yeah one year too many,” he groans, shaking his head, blonde hair whipping into Bucky and Steve as he does so.

Natasha clicks her tongue indignantly, “This workload is really stressing me out, they really shouldn’t expect us to do this much. It is a violation of our human rights, I’ll never get it done” she groans and presses the palms of her hands into her eyes.

The words are strange coming out her mouth as it really isn’t something she usually says, but it is something that Clint would say. It’s strange what we let in when we let our guard down, Steve thinks as he looks over at Bucky, squashed and angry but still radiant in the murky afternoon light.

Steve readjusts Nat’s leg, which is placed rather uncomfortably, over his crotch, “Well if you feel that way, why are you here?”

“Don’t get sassy with me Rogers,” she hisses and moves her leg back into place, “Just because you’re America’s golden boy and got all your work done early.” She stretches a little and settles into the blanket, “Plus you three are really comfortable” she smiles.

Bucky gets  _that_ smirk across his face like he’s just confidently played the winning hand in Cards Against Humanity, “You don’t know comfort until you’ve laid on Steve’s chest, they’re like tits. Or my best guess at what tits feel like”

Thor nods in solidarity and Steve jokingly scowls at them both.

Bucky makes a reflective whistle and rubs the back of his neck as best he can from his compromised position, “The gay really jumped out there didn’t it?”

The rest of them laugh and it makes Steve’s heart sing to compare this guy to the Bucky who couldn’t even look him in the eye sober. He’d get drunk wearing his comfort blanket t-shirt and shyly flirt with him, and now he’s wearing the same t-shirt in Steve’s bed. Steve’s ex being in the bed too does make it a little strange.

“How’s Val, Thor?” Steve coughs, to remind himself and Bucky who was intermittently giving Steve  _that_ look, that Thor is in a relationship with a very terrifying, very beautiful, very powerful woman.

He grins like he’s just won the lottery, “She’s fantastic, she has a rugby game on at 6, so I’m just hanging here until then.”

“What’s rugby?” Bucky quizzes.

“It’s like football without all the pads, they play it everywhere.”

Bucky quirks his eyebrows, “Oh, that’s hardcore!”

“It’s hot that Val plays,” Natasha croons. Steve wants to be surprised but he’d decided long ago that if he even tries to make assumptions about Natasha, he’s lost the game already.

Thor grins and bites down on the tip of his tongue between his teeth, “It is.” He pauses in thought, “Rugby girls are far nicer than rugby boys though, my time with rugby teams was, uncomfortable to say the least.”

Natasha hauls herself up onto her forearms and looks at Thor with an eager smirk, “I suppose you enjoyed all that homoerotic stuff though.”

He grins back at her, “I didn’t say playing rugby didn’t have its upsides.”

Steve can see Bucky mouthing the word ‘rugby’, he’s clearly making a mental note of the game, for future reference. He feels content, they all just lie there in silence for a moment relaxing, thinking, daydreaming before Steve turns his head slightly to look at Thor, remembering his course is way more theoretical. “You done with revision too?” he asks, careful not to break the trance they’re all currently in.

“No, I still have much left to revise” Thor announces, causing Nat to open one eye.

Bucky doesn’t open his eyes but asks, “Why are you here then?”

“I saw Natasha here heading over and thought I’d come along. I love spending time with you all, my friends.”

Bucky opens his eyes at that, looks at Steve before looking back at Thor as if this golden retriever man can’t possibly be real. “You’re too fucking sweet.”

“Thank you, James!” Thor booms with a long, satisfied smile plastered to his face.

Natasha sighs, stretches like a delicate feline and places her arms behind her head, “What do you think I should do after college?” she asks with a contemplative sigh and everyone knows she’s got that answer herself, but she’s curious.

There a weird cackle chuckle escaping Thor and everyone turns to look at him, “A Russian spy!” he says like it’s the coolest thing on earth.

Nat looks at him like he’s lost his mind, “I’m doing an art degree and I’m not even Russian.”

“So, it’s not like they do degrees in espionage,” Thor says a matter of factly.

“In England, they do one,” Bucky says casually and Steve’s head whips around.

“How do you know that?” he asks but Bucky doesn’t pay attention, “Seriously? I feel like that kind of defeats the point of being low key about being a spy-”

“Speaking of England, you need to go” Bucky reminds Steve and pats his watch on his wrist.

“Time for you two to get out” Steve announces earning groans from Thor and Nat. He wiggles his legs to make her move and she rolls her eyes as she slides out of the bed.

“Alright alright!” she tells him when he cheekily puts his foot on her back to push her out faster. She quickly leans in and kisses them all on their foreheads like little boys before bedtime, “Goodbye boys” she says with a smile. “You coming, Thor?”

Thor looks sad as he moves out of the bed. “You’re the worst,” he tells Natasha and she just rolls her eyes. He too turns to kiss both Steve and Bucky on the forehead.

“You keep telling yourself that,” she tells him. “We all know I’m the best.”

The boys mutter something along the lines of ‘she’s right’ and then the two of them leave. Nat pushes Thor out of the door like he’s made out of lead.

Steve checks the time, his heart racing as it nears a few minutes past. He scuttles out of bed and leaves Bucky sitting behind him, occupying and stretching out with a satisfied groan.

“Finally. A bed to myself.”

“You like having me in it, don’t complain!” Steve laughs as he flips on his laptop and jitters with anticipation.

“What time is it in England?” Bucky asks.

Steve shrugs, feeling slightly guilty that he doesn’t know the time difference. “I dunno, 9 I think?”

“When did you last talk to her?”

“We used to call every few months, but once we both started college it kinda slowed down.”

It’s been a while since he’s seen Peggy. Is she still doing her hair like she used to? Is she using a different shade of lipstick? Has she got a new boyfriend? Steve has so many questions and he jumps when he hears the familiar Skype sound call out in the room and Peggy’s username pops up on his screen.

“Answer it!” Bucky says and Steve hits the answer button.

She crackles into display, the connection is bad at first but clears up quickly. Steve realizes once the webcam starts up that Bucky is out of Peggy’s vision and he turns his head but Bucky gestures for him to focus on Peggy. Steve’s okay with this. He wants Bucky to feel comfortable, and if this means waiting and testing the waters that’s okay.

Peggy’s not really paying attention either. She’s fumbling with something and looking to her side as if whispering to someone. The room she’s in is light and Steve notices the dark wooden furniture and the plants all over the place. His questions are answered when he sees that her hair is still waved in the classic 40s style that she loves and the shade of her lips is still just as red if not a bit darker than what they used to be. She’s in a leather jacket and looking just as beautiful as she did when they used to be together. There’s a pang of Saudade hitting him and he sighs.

She peaks up at that with a big smile, “Steve! Darling!”

The feeling grows stronger but he smiles too, “Hey Pegs!”

“You look well and…” her expression goes to impressed, “Gigantic.”

“Thanks,” he blushes and runs a hand over his neck. “You look beautiful. Haven’t changed at all. In a good way that is.”

“Oh come on Steven, we both know that’s not true” she clicks her tongue and shakes her head.

He frowns a little panic running through him, “What’s changed?” he asks a little rushed, scared.

“Firstly this is a new shade of red!” she points at her lipstick.

Steve relaxes his shoulders and laughs, “You’re like a new woman!” he booms and leans back into his small wooden chair that gives his ass the taste of wood, not the good kind.

“Right?” she rolls her eyes at herself and sighs.

“How’s law school?” he asks.

“Horrible most of the time. If I have to do one more page of work on estate law I’m going to burn down half of London, but when I have my own law firm helping people who need it, not rich arseholes, it’ll be worth it.”

Bucky makes the tiniest of sounds in the background and Steve turns to give him a quick look and he’s reading a comic but peeking over the edge, clearly listening in. “She sounds like me” Bucky whispers.

“How is art school? You’re in Boston right?” Peggy asks, lagging a little now from the bad dorm internet.

Steve thinks back to his friends, “School’s good. Finals are here and everyone I know is going into full meltdown.”

“You’re just being dramatic!” Peggy tells him and writes something down on a note. “How’s your love life?” she asks and narrows her eyes at him through the screen.

“Ah, nothing compared to my best girl,” Steve says a bit nervously. He knows she won’t judge him but he wants Bucky to like her and he wants Peggy to like Bucky and this is Steve in a nutshell.

“Hey!” Bucky pipes up and Peggy cocks her head at that. Steve

Steve looks between Bucky and his computer screen and feels his heart pick up a little but he smiles and rubs his hands on his thighs. “Actually Pegs, I’m with someone and I’m very happy.”

“Who’s this someone?” she questions and folds her hands as she leans on to her table. Her chin resting on her dainty hands and she got that curious, dangerous look in her eye.

“They’re here actually” Steve grimaces a smile and Bucky pushes his way into the camera.

“Hola!” Bucky says in a fake Spanish accent and folds his arms around Steve’s neck while he makes room on Steve’s lap. He waves to the camera and all Steve can think is that Bucky looks incredibly good even in a pixelated low-quality camera.

“Peggy, this is James” Steve introduces them.

“Bloody hell, Steve look at him,” she says and Steve laughs but Bucky looks slightly offended.

“Damn, I didn’t think I was that ugly?”

Peggy laughs too now and shakes her head. “Not what I meant, James. Sorry.” She doesn’t indulge him more on that and Steve can see that he’s slightly worried, insecure maybe?

He runs a hand over his boyfriend’s back and kisses his shoulder. “You’re very pretty,” he tells Bucky and means it. God, he’s so pretty.

“Oh, not at all what I meant!” Peggy confirms.

“Thanks, Peggy. I’ve heard a lot about you from Steve here.”

“Only the good stuff I hope” she winks.

Steve’s wondering what Bucky’s thinking right now. He’d give a penny for his thoughts, a kiss for him to tell. By the looks of it, he’s not minding this at all.

“By the sounds of it,” Bucky starts and looks at Steve with a cheeky smile, then he looks back at Peggy, “There was only good stuff.”

Peggy’s laugh is loud but there is this softness and joy to it that causes Steve to miss her so. He wants to see her, to hug her and have her here but he knows that won’t happen unless they sit down and plan it. Which none of them have time for at this moment in their lives. He hugs Bucky and feels insanely grateful that he’s got him, that Bucky understands him. That he loves Steve for who he is and that Steve can love him back.

“Is he still more dramatic than the closing scene of a bad hospital drama?” she asks suddenly and Steve takes whatever his heart was making up, back.

“Absolutely,” Bucky says a bit too enthusiastically.

Steve’s face screws up as his ex and boyfriend obviously decides to go up against him.

“Well, Steve, James here seems delightful” Peggy confirms and shrugs off her jacket, revealing a vintage Fleetwood Mac t-shirt.

“He is,” Steve says, “But he’s also a massive pain in the ass.” He doesn’t know what he’s laid out for them before the words are spoken and he can just watch as the two of them exchange looks through the screen.

“Fuck Steve you’ve got a type” Bucky laughs and grabs Steve’s chin. “Don’t you?”

“I do not have a type” he replies and slaps Bucky’s hand away. “I don’t.”

Peggy is laughing now too, there’s someone asking her in the background what’s so funny. Bucky kisses him, a quick peck. “You definitely have a type, throw some lipstick on me and I’ll put on that sexy accent!”

“Yeah or I could not wash my hair for a week and pout” Peggy adds and everyone laughs.

Steve slides his hands around Bucky’s waist and lays his head onto his shoulder, hugging him close and Bucky ruffles his hair.

“I like this girl, Steve” Bucky smiles at him and Steve agrees.

Bucky goes off to the kitchen corner, Steve eyeing him with adoration and he feels ridiculously, bone rattling, earth shatteringly,  in love and he feels so saccharine it makes him sick to the bone, but he’s ok with it. He wouldn’t have it any other way. “No thoughts on the whole ‘Bucky’s a guy’ thing?” he asks Peggy.

“Hot,” she says immediately and they both smile, “But seriously, whoever makes you happy Steve. You deserve all the love and happiness you can get.”

The tone kinda goes sad, she looks kinda concerned like what they had between them for that year hadn’t been real, like Steve was gay and had been faking it just to be like the other guys. He notices her expression, sees the worry in her tiny smile.

“I realized I was bi around six months ago,” he tells her and instantly she relaxes and sighs in relief.

“If you think this is hot,” Bucky says and gestures to himself as he takes a bite out of a slice of toast as he comes back into the camera, “You should see who Steve was dating before me, Jesus Christ. Or should I say, Thor, God of thunder, Norse god and golden retriever.” Steve slaps Bucky’s arm and blushes. Then he adds, “Steve had a dream that we had a threeway and I’m just waiting for-”

“Buck!” Steve’s eyes go wide. “Have you  got no shame?!”

“What?” he grins and takes another bite.

Bucky leans into the screen, “I’ll send you his Instagram” he winks.

“Thanks, James.” Peggy grins but then looks down at her hands, “It was the same for me, I think...” her voice low.

“You had a sex dream about Steve and two hot guys?” Bucky questions, brow cocked.

“Yes,” she wiggles her brows and Steve is looking like he’s ready to die. His groans ignored by the two people he loves, “But not that, the other thing” she adds and then, “I think I figured out I was bisexual around six months ago too, maybe a little longer.”

Steve can’t believe this is happening, “Really?” he asks her like an excited little child.

“Oh, this is so excellent!” Bucky beams and claps his hands like a fan at the front row at their favorite artist's gig.

“Ange come here,” Peggy says and another beautiful girl enters the screen, “Meet Steve and his boyfriend James.” Angie sits down but looks at Peggy still. She’s smaller than Peggy, blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail and she has no makeup on. She has what looks like an oil stain on her hands and she’s wearing a painting suit. Steve refrains from commenting on the ‘type’-thing but he can’t help the smile that surfaces.

“Your Steve?” Ange says in a neutralized American accent, brows raised in surprise, “...and his boyfriend?”

Peggy nods and points to the screen.

Ange smiles widely, her brown eyes glinting and suddenly her face takes up the whole screen, “Well, this is a coincidence isn’t it, hi guys!”

“Hi!” Steve greets and he’s so happy that Peggy’s got someone too.  “This is amazing Pegs, congrats!”

“Thanks, Steve” she smiles widely and hugs her girlfriend tightly before Angie tries to push Peggy off of her like a cat being forced to cuddle.

“So, did either of you know? Or suspect anything?” Angie asks when Peggy lets her go after adding a big red stain of lips on her cheek.

“Erm” Peggy postulates and then she drops it.

Ange looks at Peggy and taps her chin in thought, the motion lagging slightly over the poor internet connection, “The strap on business would have sent my bi-fi off straight away.”

Steve gapes mortified, “Pegs! You told her!”

“Yes, I’m presuming you told James?” she says it so casually but still with that hint of Peggy.

There’s a brief moment of silence but then Bucky adds, “Yes, he did.”

“Well stop being so dramatic Steve. We’re all adults here!”

Steve goes to open his mouth but then there ’s a knock on Peggy’s door and the two girls disappear for a brief minute. Bucky’s sitting down on the bed behind Steve again, he’s humming happily on a song and picking up one of Steve’s sketchbooks.

“Look we have to go, but we’ll catch up properly soon!” Peggy announces when she reappears. Steve’s frown isn’t subtle, the sinking of his heart and disappointment that they didn’t get to talk longer is evident and Peggy goes soft. “Darling, we have far too much to talk about to leave it here. I’ll call again soon but we’re going out- Ange! Get ready!” she calls out and there’s a faint shriek from what must be their bathroom. “I’m so happy for you and James! Love you, Steve. I’m sorry for cutting it short.”

“We’ll call again soon, love you too Pegs. Have fun!” Steve smiles.

“I love you too!” Bucky calls from where he’s lying on the bed.

“Charming” Peggy sings, “See you two soon!” Peggy and Ange waves their goodbyes and then the call ends.

Steve stares at the screen before he slowly turns on the stool to look at Bucky who’s carefully flipping through the sketchbook. His hair is getting longer, his stubble looking more and more like a beard for each day that goes by and Steve wants nothing more than to feel it on his own skin. He gets up, walks over and sits down while placing Bucky’s feet in his lap.

“Well?” he suddenly asks perching up on his elbows, sketchbook flat on his stomach.

“She’s bi too. That’s… weird.”

Bucky scrunches up his nose as if to say ‘is it though?’ and he confirms it by saying, “It’s 2019, nobody’s straight, Steve.”

He does find it a bit strange but not in a bad way. He finds it amazing that he and Peggy are still and might always have been very much alike in the right places. “No seriously though, isn’t it a bit odd that we’re both bi?”

“I guess you end up attracting people similar to yourself even when you don’t even know what those forces pulling you together are,” Bucky tells him whilst sitting up and hooking his legs over Steve’s.

“I suppose so. She likes you though, that’s good.” He’s incredibly happy that they seem to have the same sense of humor, even if it means it’ll have to be the end of Steve’s sanity.

Bucky looks at him, tries to look for any sign that Steve’s lying, “How do you know?” he says and looks down at his lap. “Like, I know she means a lot to you and that you want us to get along but what if she just put on a mask.” he gestures to the various stains on his old t-shirt, “I do look like I came straight out of a cave.”

“I just do, Bucks” Steve reassures him. He’s been texting her about his paintings, the influences he’s had but he never told her specifically that he’s got Bucky in his life. But there a big part of him that just knows that Peggy likes Bucky. “She knows how much you mean to me. I’ve shown her a few of the paintings and you know how I get all emotionally tangled in them.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “So you’ve shown her all your emo paintings and told her that there’s this tall handsome someone that’s inspired you?”

“When you put it like that, yes” Steve tackles him and pushes Bucky down on the mattress while straddling him. “You’re the love of my life, you know that?”

“Awkward” Bucky bites his bottom lip and looks away.

“What?”

Bucky pushes Steve so he’s lying next to him instead and Bucky fake confesses with his hand on his heart and a dramatic gasp escapes him, “I was gonna say the same thing about Brent who works at the diner!” he dramatically flails with his hand, “If we weren’t in college I’d ask him to marry me.”

“He wouldn’t be able to resist you!” Steve goes along with it and Bucky breaks into a bubbly bout of chuckles. “Like I couldn’t” he adds and Bucky looks at him. The faintest of a blush creeping on his cheeks. “I don’t know what the future holds Buck, but the only thing I know for certain is that I want you in it.”

“You make me feel like when Simon and Garfunkel get their harmonies just right, you know that  _bzzzzz_ feeling, I can’t describe it” Bucky shakes with the noise.

Steve understands that feeling exactly, when the forces in the world align, resulting in the spine-tingling, not of this world jolt that engulfs his entire being, “I get it.”

“For someone who writes lyrics, professionally, I’m not really good with my words on the spot”

Steve wants to tell him that he finally understands the great lovers in history, Mark and Cleopatra, across their cities and dynasties or Odysseus and Penelope, forged together in the kiln of Greek tragedy, or even Romeo and Juliet, whose reputation precedes them. He doesn’t think history or the romantics have anything on Bucky though. He places his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck, carefully, worried that if he touches him a little harder, he’ll never be able to let go,  “You don’t need to be.”

Bucky looks at him with same fortified fondness that Steve knew was on his own face.

Steve rubs the back of Bucky’s neck and slides his hand over his shoulder, bracing the other man softly against him, “Let’s get coffee.”

“And cheesy loops?”

And Steve knows for sure that if this isn't  _it_   for him, nothing else ever will be, “Yeah, and cheesy loops.”


End file.
